


Shattered Glass Part One

by MangoCyanide



Series: Shattered Glass [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts First Year, LGBTQ Character, Other, xoc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29310219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoCyanide/pseuds/MangoCyanide
Summary: Hey! You may have seen this fanfiction on the SinnerBunzzz account. I don't use that account anymore so the fanfiction has been deleted there and transferred here.I'll try to update this every other week, but I may take breaks due to mental health-induced motivation droughts
Relationships: George Weasley/ Original Character
Series: Shattered Glass [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152845
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! You may have seen this fanfiction on the SinnerBunzzz account. I don't use that account anymore so the fanfiction has been deleted there and transferred here.
> 
> I'll try to update this every other week, but I may take breaks due to mental health-induced motivation droughts

“Fern Hornbeam! You better have everything packed or we will leave without you!” The shriek from downstairs makes me panic and I fall out of the windowsill. I look over the bedroom. My trunk is almost full, and I don’t know where my potions book is. “Got it! Just… give me a minute!” I crawl under Draco’s bed and grab the thick, leather-bound book before throwing it into the suitcase. I pinch my wand in between my teeth and drag the trunk downstairs as I hear flapping wings behind me. “I still don’t see how Fern got an owl before me,” I roll my eyes at the blonde boy and smack him in the back of the head. “Shut it, Draco! I got Cobalt because I got better grades last year!” “Yeah, well I got better grades three years in a row,” The boy says haughtily. “Oh, piss off!”   
“Will you two shut up?” The silvery head turns around to look down at us disapprovingly. I bow my head in mock shame as Cobalt lands on my shoulder. “Yes, sir,” Draco and I mutter to his father. Lucius nods and turns to his wife. “How are we getting there? I think floo powder is the best way to go,” Narcissa sighs and pushes her hair over her shoulders. “I would agree. But Fern is here. We can’t have them slowing us down,” “Thanks, Narcissa,” I mumble. I know what she means though. With a mom like mine, I never learned how to travel like that. I only know how to walk and bike places.  
“Fine,” Lucius quips. “We’ll take the car,” He turns his sharp, silver eyes to me as we start leaving. “If you miss the train, it’s your fault,” “I know!” I snap. “Just like everything else that happens, right?” No one talks after that, the only sounds are the small squeaking whoops I make sometimes. As we clamber into the car, I lean my head on the window. Draco’s hand pats my back slightly. It’s a reassuring gesture that we’ve built up over the years. Being friendly is kinda weird, so secret ways to show it are common between us. After a while, Lucius changes the radio to a music station to drown out my whirring and humming. We don’t know what causes it, but we’ve dealt with it for years. We work around it. I don’t mind them too much. I purposely blank out as we keep driving, humming to myself. As we drive through the nine am fog I fantasize about Hogwarts. I’ll be there soon. I tell myself firmly. Soon. Very, very soon.

***  
“Okay, you have all your books, right, Fern? And the book of medicinal spells I got for you?” Narcissa asks me as she touches the side of my face. I nod as her sharp nail skimps over one of the scars on my face. The one over my cheekbone near my ear. I pull back and nod, the motherly contact weirding me out. Narcissa smiles and straightens up when Lucius and Draco come over to us. “Just like we’ve told you,” Lucius says, pointing at the barrier. Draco nods and rolls his grey eyes. “We know!” “Then get on with it,” Lucius snaps. “I’ll send you Cobalt when we arrive,” I say as Draco vanishes through the wall. Lucius doesn’t say anything, he just nods. Narcissa nods and pulls her red lips into a slight smile. I grin and turn around. I take a deep breath and sprint at the barrier. Don’t hesitate. Don’t hesitate! When I open my eyes a scarlet steam engine is in front of me. “Woah!” The tic pops up in a perfect space. It’s exactly what I’m thinking. I skim my eyes over the crowd, searching for the platinum blonde head that I came here with. I don’t see it. I sigh and shake my head. Cobalt trills in his cage and I scold the bird softly as I head towards the doorway. I elbow my way past a plump, red-haired woman who’s talking to her sons. Not paying too much attention to them I hoist my things off of the trolley and walk into the corridor. “Of all the times to get separated from that weasel…” I mutter to my owl. Cobalt coos in response and I laugh. “Yeah. I suppose it’s not his fault though. I’d lose my bloody head if it wasn’t attached to my neck,” I head into an empty compartment and put my trunk up top before setting Cobalt on the seat.  
“Oi. Outsider. Who said that you could leave me alone like that?” I roll my eyes at Draco and pull Cobalt’s cage on to my lap. “Who-froggo!- said you could talk to me like that?” I retort sharply. Draco laughs at me. It’s a rare laugh of his. It’s still got an edge, but it’s not dripping with malice or venom. It makes my shoulders deflate and I lie down on the seat. After I lie down two other boys walk in. Crabbe and Goyle. I think bitterly. Of fucking course. These two meatheaded cronies have been a pair of Draco’s lackeys for years. I left all mine in my Muggle school. “Malfoy. The Potter kid is on this train,” Crabbe says. Draco and I’s bodies perk up. “Harry Potter?” Malfoy repeats slowly. “ The Harry Potter. Are you sure?” Crabbe nods slowly. “At least, that’s what I keep hearing,” “As long as it’s not from you, I’m willing to check,” Draco says as he stands up. “Can’t trust anything you say. You couldn’t tell your knee from your elbow,” I roll my eyes as the three boys leave. I get up immediately after they exit and walk a few meters behind them. I hear some happy shrieking from a car next to me and look inside. Two ginger boys are looking at a giant spider being held by a boy with dreadlocks.  
Without being invited I tear open the door. “Tarantula, right?” I say loudly, my head twitching into my shoulder. The boy with dreads smiles and nods. One of the red-headed kids looks over at me and points at the spider. “Yeah. Ya ever pet one before?” I shake my head and take a step towards it. “Careful, mate,” The boy with the tarantula says. “May take your fingers off!” “Don’t be a twat, Lee,” The second twin says. The boy with dreads, Lee, I guess, starts bickering with the twins as I let the tarantula climb on to my arm. My grin grows wider each second, my arm trembling under the excitement.   
“Fern!” Hearing my name scares me and I shriek, tossing the spider off me. I whip around as I pull my wand out, shoving it into the jawline of the boy behind me. “Get off me, you pillock,” I pull back and roll my eyes. “Could you not, Malfoy?” I snap. I hear the first twin scoff. “Great! Scar-face brought a Malfoy in here,” I hear a blow and the voice protest. “George!” The first twin complains. I scoff and walk out, flipping the gingers off as I walk. Malfoy and his goons catch up to me quickly. “What were you doing hanging out with those Weasleys?” Malfoy asks icily. ‘I don’t- fuck you!- know what you’re talking about,” The blonde scoffs. “I forgot you don’t know anything. Just stay away from them. They’re not worth your time,” I nod. “I guess not,” I agree. I slink back into our compartment and sit next to Cobalt. I lean my head on the window, ticcing periodically as I try and nap. After an hour or so I feel a thin-fingered hand punching my arm. I wake up and Draco has bought a pile of sweets. “Took you long enough to wake up! I got you some things,” I yawn and whistle, looking to the seat in front of us. Crabbe is gone and Goyle is asleep, snoring like a foghorn. “Thanks,” I whisper happily. “No problem, Outsider,” Draco snickers. He bites the head off a chocolate frog and leans back as I pick over the Bertie Bott’s every Flavour Beans. “You stressed at all?” I say casually. The blonde shakes his head. “Why would I be? I know what house I’m going to get into, and I know I’m going to run this goddamn school,” “Of course that’s what you think,” I say briskly. Draco opens one eye. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”He asks. I roll my eyes. I clear my throat and start responding. “It’s just that you’re- rubbish!” My pathetic self blurted out. “I’m not rubbish, Fern,” Draco teases. “You know that was a tic. It’s just that you’re so arrogant and have been since we were little,” I scoff. “Yet I’ve always been the one who accomplishes things. I decide I want to do something and it gets done. But you have confidence to hand out like candy,” Draco laughs as he finishes his second chocolate frog. “Better have too much than be insecure about everything,” He says snidely. I nod. “I guess you’re right,” I say, tossing Cobalt a chunk of Pumpkin Pasty. I lie down on the bench again, sleeping until I feel the train jolt to a stop a few hours later.  
Draco roughly shoves my shoulder to wake me up. The friendliness is gone, so I know his lackeys are back and up. The train is slowing down and I crack my back as I stretch. “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train. It will be taken to the school separately,” My nerves turn into sewing pins and suddenly I can’t sit down. I start pacing, murmuring calming phrases and words to myself as I crack my knuckles. When the train stops Draco grabs the hood of my robes and pulls me on to the dark, small platform through the corridor. A deep, booming voice speaks out from the bobbing lantern coming towards us. “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” I see a man, a very tall man, smiles as he towers over the crowd of kids. I rub my ear against my shoulder, trying to ward off my tics and calm down. “C’mon, follow me! Any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!” The herd of children starts walking down the pathway. It’s dark on either side. As if the darkness itself is hugging us from either side.  
“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” The man says proudly. “Jus’ ‘round this bend here,” When we cross the crick in the path, I, and a lot of other people, let out a gobsmacked sigh. The path opens up on to a lake, across from which is a mountain. On this mountain is a castle. A large, heaving thing with craggy towers and turrets stabbing themselves into the sky. “We get to- I love you!- We get to live here…” I wheeze happily. Draco kicks my ankle. “Don’t be lame,” “No more’n four to a boat!” I clamber into a boat with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, pulling my legs up to my chest as I try and ignore the soft swaying. “Everyone in?” The large man calls. “Right then- forward!” The boats all push off together, flowing across the water as smoothly as a murder of crows would glide on air. I put my want down and drag it through the water, the reflection of the sky distorting under my fingertips. Draco grabs my wrist and pulls it on to my leg, keeping his hand on top of my knuckles and the wand. “You’re going to drop it,” He says plainly. “Heads down!” I hear as we near the cliff. I keep mine up, holding my breath as we near a wall of ivy. We glide through a wide opening in the cliff, being swallowed up by the dark tunnel the ivy was hiding. The boats dock on a rocky bank and we clamber out of our boats. I stare at my feet, crunching the pebbles underneath my shoes. I zone out for most of the walk, only returning to full consciousness when the giant man knocks on the castle door.


	2. Chapter 2

After the knock, the door opens. Where the large barrier once was stands a stern-looking woman, cloaked in green and a face to match her demeanor. “The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” The man says plainly. “Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here,” The woman turns around and the herd of kids pushes into the building behind her. The height of the ceiling combined with the dancing shadow around the torches makes my stomach seize up. I shake my head to the side and trill, shrinking behind Draco when McGonagall flits her eyes to me. “What’re you looking at me for?” I mumble. “Zip it, Outsider,” Draco hisses at me. In retaliation I flat-tire him. Have fun walking on the back of your shoe. Bitch. I think bitterly. McGonagall leads us into a smaller room, the walls only just muffling the hundreds of voices from the hall next to us. “Everyone else is already there, huh?” I whisper. No one pays attention to me. It doesn’t matter anyway. Fewer people paying attention to me is good.   
“Welcome to Hogwarts. The banquet shall begin shortly,” McGonagall starts, “but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you’re here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room,” I think about what house I’d be okay with being sorted into as McGonagall continues her speech. I’m not friendly enough for Hufflepuff. I say to myself. I don’t have enough devotion to my grades for Ravenclaw. Gryffindor? Out of the question. I’m not loud and stupid. Slytherin is the only one I fit into. As I come to that certain conclusion, McGonagall stops giving messier students dagger eyes. “I shall return when we are ready for you,” The stern woman says. “Please wait quietly,” I exhale as she leaves the chamber. “How exactly do they sort us into houses?” I hear a boy ask. “Some sort of test I think,” His friend responds. “Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking,” I sigh at this. If the Sorting was going to be painful, so be it. I move my lang-ish hair off of my face, twisting it into a bun and stabbing my wand through it. I see a girl staring at me and wink at her. As she turns away, Malfoy scoffs. “Do you have to act like that, Outsider?” I roll my eyes at the question. “Let me live my life, dude,” I laugh. I close my eyes and breathe, composing myself despite my ear grinding into my shoulder. People scream and I pivot myself, looking at the wall they’re staring at.  
Ghosts glide through the wall and I let out a breathy chuckle. Ghosts. Arguing ghosts. Don’t see those often. I think happily as I hear what a monk is saying. “Forgive and forget, I say,” the monk says to their fellow pearlescent being. “We ought to give him a second chance-” “My dear Friar,” the second ghost interjects, “haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?” The posh looking ghost asks us. “We’re new students,” I say after a moment. “Why do you think we’re in here and not eating food?” “Ah yes. New students!” The Fat Friar beams, ignoring the cheek I gave them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?” “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” The Friar continues. “My old House, you know,” “Move along now,” McGonagall says, striding back into the room. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start,” The ghosts nod and disappear. “Now form a line and follow me,” McGonagall says. I get behind a brunette kid and a sandy-haired boy hops in line behind me. When we walk into the Great Hall I stop breathing. It’s gorgeous.  
The first thing I notice is the smell. Food. Nothing but food. Turkey, roast beef, mashed potatoes, butter. There are hundreds of smells on top of that. So many things, and I can tell what most of them are. Some I can’t, but if I thought about them they’d come in a second. The security of it all makes me want to cry. It smells how I’d want the Malfoy’s too. Like something is lived in, used, cared for. Like memories were made here. Not like cold, dark wood and the feeling of a seemingly perfect family. All the positive emotions clash inside my head, painting the back of my eyes shades of gold, silver, and bright blue. I love how it feels, turning my head to each table as I try and smell as much as I can.   
On these tables are people in cloaks and hats, the teachers in more personalized attire at the head table. Their clothes are varied, to say the least. A waist-length, silver beard over a moonlit-blue cloak. A purple turban paired with an otherwise normal wizard’s cloak. A small suit of bright blue. All black. My eyes turn away from the man in black and back to the turban. When I stare at it, all the warmth I feel gets sucked out of me. I look away from him and the familial warmth comes back. Turn to the turban, it’s gone again. To shake the energy off I look up at the ceiling. After I do so I let out a gasp.  
Above everything are hundreds of candles. They’re all just floating there, under the ceiling. “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside,” I hear a girl say. “I read about it in Hogwarts: A History,” As much as I know this to be true, it’s still hard to believe. It looks like the sky, stars, and clouds dancing and mixing in the deep blue. I keep staring at the candles. They’re all like little beacons, their small flames reaching towards the ceiling. Some look like tiny dancers, others look like small galaxies. I stop trying to tell what’s earthly fire and what’s cosmic flames. I just appreciate the beauty laid out in front of me.  
Professor McGonagall places a dirty old hat on a stool, and I stare at it intently as my limbs twitch. The hat twitches too, and I gasp through my nose. A mouth tears into its body and the hat starts to sing. The hat sings about the types of people in each house, and how it’s the hat of all hats. I laugh at the gloating. Well, we know what house the hat would be in. I think, thoroughly amused.  
After the applause for the hat dies down, kids are called on to be sorted. Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff again. Ravenclaw. Another Ravenclaw. Then Lavender Brown gets sorted into Gryffindor. The applause and roaring are louder than the others, and I clap my hands over my ears. Too loud. I think, panicked. Much too loud. Millicent Bulstrode is the first Slytherin. What an aesthetically fitting name. I think. I turn to the sandy-haired boy who was behind me and start talking. “You know what house you’re getting into?” I ask him. “I don’t know, but I’m hoping I get into Gryffindor,” He responds in an Irish accent. “After all, it’s the best one,” I roll my eyes. “What’re you hopin’ to be?” He asks. “I honestly don’t know,” I say as the sorting hat shouts another name out. “Just hoping it helps me achieve my goals,” The boy purses his lips slightly. “Something wrong?” I ask him. The boy shakes his head. “No, nothing. Just sounded like a Slytherin type o’ thing to say. What did yer name was?” “I didn’t,” I laugh. “Fern Hornbeam,” I say, holding my hand out. “Seamus Finnigan,” The boy returns, shaking my hand. “With a name like that, you’re set up for Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Don’t worry too much about it,” I nod as the hat calls out Seamus’s name. After a minute he’s sorted into Gryffindor. Hermione Granger, the girl who talked about the sky, is sorted into Gryffindor. I’m getting stressed now. H is after G. I think as I bite my nail. Meaning there’s a good chance I’m gonna get sorted- “Hornbeam, Fern,” Time freezes.  
My body moves without my mind, striding confidently up towards the stool as I bite my lip to hide my tics. They’re getting worse with the stress. I sit down, my legs shaking as the hat is placed on my head. “Well, what do we have here?” The hat muses in my ear. “This should be a clear-cut decision. But there are little inklings of something else here…” “Just spit it out,” I snap, not realizing I'm speaking out loud. The hat chuckles in my ear. “Well then. So insistent. Slytherin!” My house is yelled out and no one cheers except for my table. I don’t care, sitting down heavily as I stare into my dish. I zone out until a name is spoken. “Potter, Harry,” Shock shoots into me. I turn around so quickly that I feel my neck crack, but I don’t care. The rumors were true. There, right on the stool, is Harry Potter. I’m a little shocked, but the length of time it’s taken him to be sorted is concerning. I thought he was a straight-shot for Gryffindor. I’ve always thought that. Is there a possibility he’s not? That thought fills me with hope for some reason. The hat yells Gryffindor, though, and as the roar of happiness rises from the table, the elation sinks out of me. Of course, they get the Chosen One. I think bitterly. Malfoy scoffs next to me. “I bet they think they’re so special, getting Potter in their house,” He says indignantly. I nod in agreement, spitting on the floor. I count how many people are left. I watch the last four people get sorted. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin. After the last boy, Blaise Zabini, sits down next to me, McGonagall leaves with the scroll, the hat, and its stool. The man with the long beard, who I now recognize as Dumbledore, stands up at the table. He’s smiling with his arms open, a welcoming gesture to the kids in the hall. I frown.  
“Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” People clap and cheer for his words, but I turn my attention to the food. All the food I could smell is laid out in front of me. But there are things that I didn’t notice. Yorkshire pudding, peas, pumpkin juice, chicken, pheasant. My stomach clenches and I reach out quickly, screeching when I knock over someone else’s goblet. Luckily there wasn’t anything in it, but the clang is enough to make my movements slow down. I grab a turkey leg and attack it, the flavor seeping into my tongue. I sigh, and the person who’s goblet I almost knocked over laughs harshly. He seems tall, with long limbs roped in muscle. His hair is cut short to his head, kind of like he glued it to his head. I can’t help but think he looks kind of like a troll. “What’s so funny?” I ask, squinting suspiciously. “Just the way you’re eating that thing. Never seen someone eat chicken so violently,” I swallow the meat, more than a little annoyed. “It’s turkey, you ogre. Can’t you tell from the size?”   
“Chill out, man. I just find it hilarious,”  
“Why is it so hilarious, o’ great King of Comedy?”  
“Because you’re so small,”  
“What?!”  
“I’ve never seen a person as little as you eat so much,”  
I roll my eyes and take an even larger bite out of the turkey. Draco laughs at me as he eats his own dinner. “What’re you laughing at?” The troll-faced boy spits my question out to the blonde. “Just like you, I’m allowed to laugh at whoever I want,” He says, spooning more mashed potatoes onto his plate. “And you, you mongrel, are quite entertaining,” The Malfoy punctuates his statement by slamming his spoon into his food. I bounce my legs under the table, trying to distill the nervous energy that’s inside of my body. A girl next to the troll boy reaches out and taps my arm, grinning slightly. “You’re Fern, right?” She asks. I nod slowly. “Kadence Bennett. Anyways, I’ve never heard someone give cheek to the Sorting Hat before,” This is odd to me. “Well, the blasted thing was taking too long. Does no one talk to it?” I ask. “Oh, no,” She responds, dismissing the thought with a wave of her hand. “I talked back because it almost put me in Ravenclaw. Marcus here,” she nudges the boy who laughed at me, “egged it on. Or so he says. But most people talk in their head to it. Y’know. ‘Cause it’s the voice is in their mind,” I nod. “That makes sense,” “Yeah, it does! You’re just weird, I guess,” I nod in agreement.   
We eat in silence afterward, focusing on the food. Conversation flies over my head, the people around me talking about blood status, future classes, what careers people want. I cut into the conversation that Blaise is having with Kadence about working in the Ministry of Magic. “What did you say about that one teacher?” Kadence blinks. “Which one?” She asks, obviously annoyed. “Specify. I hate repeating myself,” “Greasy hair. Hooked nose. All black,” The annoyance flashes out of her face and turns into angry glee. “Oh, Snape. I said that he’s like an infected cut on your palm. You just want it gone, but you keep tearing the scab off so you can threaten people with it,” I shudder at the description. “What’s- rubbish!- wrong with him? He some rude git or something?” Kadence nods grimly. “Yeah. I hate him, but he favors Slytherin. Really useful if you forget an assignment or two,” A brown-skinned boy leans over, holding his fork in front of my nose. “Use him to your advantage,” He grins. “You shouldn’t ever pass up an opportunity to use an authority in your favor,” “I can see why you’re a Slytherin,” I chuckle. The boy shrugs, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I’m not ashamed of it,” The boy leans back as the food from our plates vanish. They’re replaced by desserts, and I can feel saliva flood my mouth. I reach my hand out for a small bowl of custard, retracting it when Draco kicks me under the table. I forgot he was there. I turn to him, raising my eyebrows. He just grins at me. I roll my eyes and grab the custard, attacking it immediately.  
“Mind if I ask a personal question?” Kadence asks through a mouthful of pastry. I nod. “What’s up with your face?” She asks. I place my fingertips on my facial scarring. Kadence nods. “I was thinking the same thing,” Blaise comments without looking at me. The boy who held the fork in my face nods. “What happened? Get into a fight?” He asks. “Get a door slammed in your face?” Kadence cuts in.  
“Fall down a set of train tracks?”  
“Quidditch accident?”  
“Knife fight?!”  
“Okay, okay okay!” I snap. “You’re both…” I pause, searching for the word. “Interesting people and are certainly obsessed with finding this out. So here’s my answer: you don’t get to know yet. We’re not friends. No offense,” Kadence and her friend back off after that. I turn to Draco and kick him in the leg. “What’s going on in that empty head of yours?” I ask. He scoffs. “We both know I have more brains than you ever will. And I’m just thinking about how glad I am Potter isn’t in our house,” “Why?” I ask. “I’d think you’d be annoyed. ‘Cause now you can’t convince him to be… allied with you,” A shade of pink dusts Draco’s normally pale cheeks. “I already offered. But he decided to be an idiot and went with the Weasley boy instead,” I nod. “Ah. So you’re- woah!- butthurt,” Malfoy grits his teeth and turns away from me. I sigh, smiling to myself softly. He’ll be over it soon. Such a baby. I laugh to myself, finishing off the bowl of custard. The desserts disappear a minute or two later, and a hush falls over the crowd as Dumbledore gets to his feet.  
“Ahem- just a few more words now that we’re all fed and waters. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well,” His gaze seems to travel to the Gryffindor table, and I perk up. Someone there knows their way around the woods. I’ll have to beat them to good relaxing spots. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.   
Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.  
And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death,”  
I laugh, but I’m one of the only ones. My face burns and I shut up. “And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” The man waves his wand, and golden paper flies out of it. It curls into lyrics, and everyone starts singing. I choose not to, listening with my eyes closed as everyone sings at different paces. I open my eyes as the last two people stop singing, Dumbledore applauding for them louder than anyone. “Ah, music,” He muses, wiping his eyes softly. “A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime! Off you trot,” We all stand up, following a few teenagers through the hallways. I cling on to Draco’s arm, nervous about being trampled. He lets me grip on to him, hiding his annoyance with me. Before we enter, the boy who leads us here turns to face us. “Alright, worms,” He chuckles, running a hand through his black hair. “This door,” he slams his hand on the dark oak door behind him, “is the entrance to our common room. Password changes every two weeks. The one for these two weeks is ‘Serpent Venom.’ Don’t forget it,” We nod and he says the password. He stands next to the door as we all file in, grabbing my wrist as I walk in. He holds me there until everyone else is inside.   
“Let go of me,” I say harshly. To my surprise, my wrist is immediately dropped. “Sorry, kid. Didn’t want to scare you. You just seemed tense. I just wanted to let you know that, while were a ton of assholes, you can find pretty chill people here. You met Kadence already, right?” I nod slowly. “Yeah! Perfect example. I’m Jackson. Let’s head inside,” My mouth drops to the floor when I step into the room. It’s like the Malfoy manor. Dark wood, flagstones, tapestries. The windows open up to greenish-blue water, bubbles and fish gliding through it. Chandeliers made of green glass bubbles hang above us, and the bewildered first years stand in front of the windows and sit on couches. “Welcome!” Jackson yells. “To the best house in the entire world. Note, get to bed, ya losers. Guys on the right, girls on the left,” While everyone else leaves, I stand still. “What’s wrong, Worm?” Jackson asks me. “I… I don’t know where to go,” I stutter. Jackson nods. “Nonbinary?” He asks. I nod. “We’ve had this issue before. You have your own dorm, but it’s been used as storage ‘cause the last person got expelled,” “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” Jackson smiles at me, walking towards the boy’s form. “And that’s the resourcefulness that lies in this house’s blood. I’ll see ya tomorrow, Firstie,” I nod, waving as he leaves.


	3. Chapter 3

After three hours I decide I should stop trying to fall asleep. I swing my legs off of the couch, my feet turning to iceblocks when they touch the flagstones. I decide to put on my socks but not my shoes. I don’t want to cause noise. I crawl over to my trunk. Jackson brought my thighs down to me just before I’d drifted off. He’d also reminded me to not leave the common room at night. That part I’m choosing to ignore. Cobalt coos at me and I shush him. “Quiet, you stupid thing,” I gripe. I grab my lucky socks out of my trunk and pull them on over my normal ones. I whisper the password and the wall opens up. I step out of it and shiver as it vanishes behind me. I put my hand on the wall asI my eyes adjust to the darkness. Once I can see in the darkness I head up the hallway and stone steps and come out into the entrance hall. I grin, the thrill of being alone making my heart beat faster. I inhale and start running, my feet slipping as I rocket around corners and up stairs.  
Once I lose my wind I slow from a run to a walk. I whistle and wake up a painting. She stares at me in shock. “You’re supposed to be asleep!” She hisses at me. “I know!” I return quickly. “But I couldn’t. I thought that… I thought that if I ran around it would tire me out,” I lie. The woman nods, pulling her pink dress over her large body. I suddenly realize that I don’t know where I am. I’ve gone farther up the staircases then I thought I did.“Do you- anapneo- know where I am?” I ask. The woman nods. “You’re right in front of the Gryffindor common room, love,” Before she can continue, the painting swings open and I get pushed to the side with her. I hear two sets of footsteps leaving the hole in the wall and peek out from the frame. It’s the two red-headed twins, grinning at each other. The twin on the left is carrying what seems to be a frayed leather briefcase. I tail them silently, praying they don’t notice me. They round a corner too quickly and when I follow suit, I slip. Slamming into the wall knocks my vision sideways and I can feel the sound reverberating. I think I knocked into a suit of armor. Both whip around the twin carrying the briefcase throws it at me. “George!” The other twin hisses. “I thought it was Mrs. Norris!” George whispers to his brother, running over to me and grabbing the bag. He opens it and smiles. “Nothing’s broken, don’t worry,” The other twin nods as sighs before turning on me.   
“What’s the big idea?” He snaps as I pull myself up off the ground, keeping my eyes locked on my shoes. “You could’ve gotten us all caught!” I whip my head up and glare at the pair of them. I open my mouth to speak but my voice fails me. They’re intimidating. Both tall and strong looking despite looking only a couple years older than me. I swallow and shake my head. “I wanted to see what you were doing,” I snap back. “I’ve been following you for like fifteen minutes. Where are we going anyways?” “‘We’?!” The ringleader asks. I nod. “Yeah, we. Unless you want me to…” I think for a second. These two seem like repeat offenders. Authority wouldn’t be a good threat. “Unless you want me to- fuck off!- break your pranking supplies, I’m coming with you,” “You know what, George,” He says, walking towards me, “I’ve just about had it with this little son of a-!” I can see a pleased shock ripple across Fred’s face in the darkness. “Scar face?” He asks. I blink. “Oh, come off the nickname, Fred. You’re the first-year we met on the train, right?” I nod and Fred claps his hands together. “Perfect! Someone we’ve talked to. Alright, here’s the thing. George and I aren’t exactly looking for a partner right now,” “Shut it!” I hiss. I listen harder and hear it. The quiet yowl of a cat. “Please tell me that there’s not a night patrol cat around here,” I gripe. “Bullocks…” Fred mutters. “Mrs. Norris,” George says grimly. “Let’s get to the bathroom and hide in there. It’s our end goal anyway,” Fred nods and takes the case from George. He ties the rope of his bathrobe through the handle, taking off in a sprint down the corridor.  
“You coming or not?” He asks. “Oh, I’m coming,” I return. I start running after Fred, and George catches up to me almost immediately. I keep running, grinning at the thrill of outrunning danger. “Where are you, ya little runts!?” I hear an angry man demand. “Filch!” George hisses. “Guys! Behind here,” Fred stops behind a pillar and waits for us to get next to him. Fred pulls what looks like an empty map out of his pocket and pulls his wand out of his bathrobe pocket. He taps it with his wand and mutters, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” George moves around to it and they communicate through pointing. I keep watch and see a lantern. “Hey guys- woah!” After that tic, we all know that we’re screwed. “Got ya!” I hear Filch exclaim, sick glee in his voice. “We gotta dip, Freddie,” George chuckles. Fred nods and takes off, now seeming to know exactly where he’s headed. “Alright, here’s the deal,” George tells me as we run. He doesn’t walk me through a plan, just pokes my chest with his wand. “Severetus!” After the spell is cast, I can feel my weight leave my body. George throws me over his shoulder and runs into a room, slamming the door without a sound. After he sets me down and utters the counter-charm, he starts laughing. For some reason, I start laughing too. He just laughs for a straight minute until we catch our breath. “Blimey, we were almost caught there!” I wheeze. George nods in agreement and Fred coughs.   
“Yeah, we were. Now, before Filch wakes up Snape, we should get this done,” George nods and scrambles over to where his twin dumped the contents of the briefcase. I shuffle over, watching their hands work in unison. Translucent white paste, purple tablets and long applicators lie on the ground as the twins snap on gloves. The purple tablets are crushed and mixed in with the paste and Fred hands me a set of gloves. “Be careful. This stuff is strong,” He points to toilets and grins. “Well? Get to it,” “We’re putting contact laxative on the toilets,” George elaborates. “This is the Professor's bathroom. How funny would it be if the teachers were all absent on the first day of classes?” I grin at their plan. “Brilliant!” I exclaim. “Mind if I save some?” “What for?” George asks as we head towards the stalls, smearing the paste all over the seats.  
“To prank my friend,”  
“Don’t you mean friends?”  
“No, I mean friend. He’s kind of a bitch, so I want to get back at him for it. Also, he threw me down Knockturn Alley when we were getting our robes, so there’s that,”  
“Ignoring the fact that you got to go to Knockturn Alley, who’s your friend?”  
“Oh, Draco Malfoy,” I hear George slow down as I keep working. This puzzles me. “Something wrong?” I ask. “Kind of, yeah,” George tells me. “You’re a Slytherin!” Fred exclaims from the other half of the room. “Why- Why are you doing this with us? Shouldn’t you be in your common room, plotting how to poison all the Gryffindors and muggle-borns and poor people and stuff?” I sigh. “I don’t know what they’re doing, to be honest,” I start. “Everyone else went to sleep a few hours ago. At least, they went to their dorms. All the first years went to bed and everyone else sat near the windows, drinking tea or something,” “Sound like a ton of posh idiots,” Fred gripes. “Kinda,” I agree. “Well, you have us now,” George says matter-of-factly. “We may not be snakes like you, but at least we’re not a Malfoy,” “Also,” Fred adds. “We actually know how to have fun. I’m all done over here, what about you guys?” George and I both stick our heads out of our final stall, nodding. “Great! Let’s clear out. The map says no one’s around,” I don’t know what he means by that, but George does.  
After everything is cleaned up we slink out of the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind us. Not two steps later I hear a sluggish, deep voice from behind us. “Ah yes. The Weasley repeat-offenders and… a new student,” I turn around and see Snape. It takes all my energy to not slam my face into the wall beside me. “How did you know where we were?” I ask. “It doesn’t matter,” Snape responds coolly. “I think that this situation is a little more important. Three students out past curfew at once,” “Sir-” Snape holds his hand out to shut Fred up. “Twenty points from Gryffindor,” “Professor Snape-” “Each,” I stand there silently. I know that Snape has biases. Maybe if I stay quiet, he’ll ‘forget’ about me being here. “Oh, and you,” Snape turns towards me with a disappointed frown. “Sneaking out on your first night here. I would expect more from a student who doesn’t wish to make a bad first impression. Although, I suppose these two older boys must’ve played a role in that,” This annoys me. Does he really think that I could be swayed by someone that easily? “Twenty points from Slytherin. You’ll all have detention tomorrow,” He walks away, smiling to himself.  
***  
“Unbelievable!” I scream, slamming my face into the couch. I just got my detention letter. Eleven o’clock tonight, detention with Quirrell.“You know, if you didn’t decide to slink around the school with degenerates, you wouldn’t have detention right now, right?” I lift my head out of the book that I’m carrying. “I know that Draco! I just- fuck off!- didn’t expect Snape to be right there!” Draco just scoffs at me and pokes the spot in between my eyebrows. “Don’t be such an idiot!” He scolds me slightly. “You don’t care about me, but you promised my mum you’d try not to get into trouble,” “Promises are made to be broken,” I huff indignantly. The blonde rolls his eyes as he stares at me with his arms crossed. “When you get back, don’t wake me up,” “Ha-ha!” I sneer back. I roll my eyes as Draco disappears up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. I leave the room, stomping my way towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. I slam the door open, anger bubbling up inside of me. “Fucking crybaby!” I smile sheepishly after I blurt that out and place my books on the table behind the twins. One of them turns around and his freckled cheeks break out into a grin. “Well, that’s a way to enter a room, innit, George?” Fred says as he nudges George. George turns around and nods. “I guess so, yeah,” He swivels his eyes over to me and grins himself. “But if you really want to make a first impression you’d say it while Quirrell’s here,” “Oh, shove it. I didn’t mean to say it and I- froggo- wouldn’t enter a room like that. Especially not to make an impression on a teacher. Or a pair of Gryffindors,” I snap as my neck cracks to the side. George laughs again and nods at me. “Understandable. But we’re not all that stupid. And you seem just as clever as us, so why be an arse?”  
I nod from side to side. “I guess,” I say, dropping heavily into the seat next to them. “Aww, buck up!” Fred teases. “You can’t be our partner in crime if you act so mopey during detention,” “Shove it!” I yell back. Fred laughs, undeterred. “I’ll convince you yet!” I groan and put my head in my hands, slamming my face into the desk. How on Earth did you manage to do this?! I scold myself. You’re supposed to keep your head down, stick with Draco and distance yourself from everyone else. That was the plan. Now you’ve mucked that up, running around with these broke Gryffindors. After a minute Quirrell stumbles into the room and slams his knee into the desk. I snort into my arms and he looks at me, slight fire in his eyes. “D-Do you have something you w-want to -say, Mx. H-Hornbeam?” I shake my head, trying to contain more of my laughter. “N-nope. Nothing at all- Fucking crybaby!” “Oh, ho ho!” Fred and George have the same reaction, and Quirrell looks like he wants to punch me but is too afraid to. “I’m so sorry sir!” I say, forcing the nonchalance out of my voice. “What d-did you just call me?” Quirrell asks. “It’s not their fault,” George says in a relaxed tone. “It’s a compulsive thing. They said it when they came in here, don’t worry,” “Yeah,” Fred adds. “No harm, no foul,” Quirrell nods and glances to the door across the room.   
“Yes, I suppose that’s r-right. Now y-you’re all here for a reason,” He says, raising a hand to the back of his turban. “Out past midnight. Sh-Shameful, the lot of you. But it’s n-not the worst thing you could’ve done. S-So, you’re not going to have the worst punishment,” The squirrelly teacher turns to the board behind him, dragging a piece of chalk across it. He turns back to us and the board reads: I must not, and will not in the future, sneak out past curfew. “Wr-Write this l-line until I ret-turn. I expect two scrolls at minimum,” Quirrell rests his hand on his head, wincing and muttering to himself. He leaves the room and slams the door. The sound reverberates in my head and makes me shriek. I clap my hands over my ears, gritting my teeth until the echo quiets down. I shiver the noise off, grabbing a broken quill out of my bag. I yawn and slam the ink well next to it, sloppily scrawling out the line.   
I feel a head crane over and stare at my paper. I look over at it and kind of pull my body away. The ginger sits up and makes eye contact. “You do realize that if you write like that you’ll have to do it over again, right?” The Twin asks. “I really don’t care, Fred. Quirrell doesn’t seem to have a backbone,” The boy laughs and makes a buzzing noise. “Wrong person! I’m George. But you’re right,” “Quirrell couldn’t grow a backbone if there was a potion for it!” Fred laughs. George nods and turns back to his own scroll. I smile to myself and pull my wand out of the pocket on my robes. I drag the wood across the ink then tap the space below, , muttering,“Verbum copy crustulum,” as I do so. The line copies itself and I grin, thankful for the spell. Fred, I think, turns around and taps George on the back. “George, George. Look at that,” George turns around as I finish copying a scroll’s worth of lines. “How did you do that?!” Fred damands, getting out of his chair and putting his hands on my desk. “First off,” I say, poking his stomach with my wand. “Back up. Second: take your wand. Drag it over the words you wanna write. Say…” I pause. Why should I tell them this? If I don’t, I’ll be the one with my stuff done when Quirrell gets back. Then I get to leave and they’re stuck here. But some nagging part of my brain tells me that it’s better to share my trick.  
“Say what?” Fred presses. “Say Verbum copy crustulum while you do that,” I continue slowly, like I’m talking to a small child. “And end of the movement in the space below your sentence,” Fred nods and turns around, frantically relaying the information to his brother. Why the time they’ve stopped complaining about the ink overlapping I’ve finished my two scrolls. George, I know I have it right this time, gets up and sits on my desk. “Where’d you learn this? This could’ve gotten us out of so many detentions with this git,” He asks me. “Why should I tell you?” I ask with a squint. “Oh, c’mon, firstie. Who’s it gonna hurt?” George grins. “You- fuck off!- know the charm. You don’t need to know the source,” George sighs and turns around. He whispers something to Fred and I see Fred nod. I decide to not take my eyes off them. Less than a second later, the twins have jumped over to my side of the desk and are pressing into me from either side. “What are you guys doing?” I demand. The twins laugh. “C’mon! Stop having such a stick up your ass!” The twin on my left teases. “I do not!” I protest. “I dunno,” The twin on my right grins. “You’re pretty buddy-buddy with the Malfoy kid,” The left twin nods in agreement. “I don’t-woo!- have a stick up my ass!” I growl, gripping my wand tightly. “Prove it then,” The left twin says smugly. “Or are you chicken?” The right one chimes in.  
At that I stand up. I can deal with a lot. But if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s my personal limitations and standards being brought into question. “Alright. Charm comes from Narcissa Malfoy,” “Hmmmm,” The left twin taps his chin with his wand. “I don’t know. Giving up after someone insults you seems like something a chicken would do,” My cheeks burn. How dare he! “Alright, Weasley,” I start cooly. “What’s a person gotta do to prove themself to you-” The second the words leave my lips I’m filled with disgust and revulsion. “Actually, no,” I say slowly, poison leaking into my words. “Why am I doing this? Why in the world am I trying to prove myself to you?” I start pacing, the anger needing a release from my body. “I mean, I’ve done more non-chicken things so far than you ever have in your life! Hell, I’ve done more things then you ever will!” I’ve walked up to Quirrell’s desk now, tapping my fingers on it as I keep talking. “I’m more important than this room. I’m better than you two. I’m not ‘buddy-buddy’ with Malfoy, he clings to me like a deranged puppy!” “You sound pretty hurt right now,” One of the twins comments. “Sounds pretty… weak? So to speak?” I slam my arm on to the table, dragging it along the table as I turn around. “Shut up!” I storm over and grab the twin that just spoke, the left one, by the tie. I put my face in his and grin. “I will bend you over this desk and knock your teeth out if you don’t shut up,”  
Instead of any fear registering in his face, the boy just grins. His eyes move behind me and I turn around. I let out a single breathy chuckle. Everything on Quirrell’s desk is on the floor. Books, vials, glass beakers. It’s all shattered, stained, torn, the contents spilling everywhere. Two beakers’ contents have mixed together, the mixture black and smoking. “I think… I think we should get out of here, George,” The right twin says with a laugh. “Oh, yeah,” George, the twin who’s tie I’m holding, chimes in. Before I start walking, I hear a loud hissing. I look at the black liquid and it’s gone. In its place there’s a hole in the ground. “Fred. George,” I say. The twins look at each other. “Someone else did this,” I say immediately. “Any idea who?” “Peeves?” George asks Fred. “Oh yeah. Peeves did this,” Fred tells us. “Right,” George and I say in unison. We leave the room after I scrawl a note out for Quirrell that reads: We all finished our work. Peeves came in and broke a ton of stuff. Mixed together, looked dangerous. See you for class some time soon.  
It’s probably only eleven forty-five, but I’m already tired. I feel my eyelids getting heavy and my feet start shuffling. I put my hand on the wall to steady myself, and make a small cooing noise as I yawn. I think the twins notice my sudden dip in energy, because they slow down and stand on either side of me. “Hey, Fred. I’m gonna take Fern back to their house,” George says suddenly. “What? Why?” Fred returns over my head. “Look at them!” George hisses. “If someone doesn’t go with them they’ll collapse down the stairs,” I nod in agreement. Fred rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll head back. I’ll finish workshopping the thing,” George nods. “C’mon, firstie,” George and I split off from Fred at the next staircase, Fred heading up while George and I head down towards the Great Hall.   
“So, how’d you enjoy your first detention?” George asks with a grin. I shrug, yawning again. “It was fun, I guess. Got the work done with-woo!- pretty quickly,” George chuckles. “Yeah we did. Can’t believe a malfoy taught you that spell,” “I don’t wanna talk about them,” I say quickly. “Oh, sure, no problem,” George returns. “Anything you do wanna talk about?” I shake my head. George nods and smiles to himself. He doesn't stay quiet. He doesn’t seem good at that. While we walk he hums, whistles, or mutters to himself. But he always does it in a way that I think he thinks I can’t hear. I appreciate it. We head down the stairs, leaving the warm, familial glow of the torches behind us and into the dark, dingy hallways of the dungeons. “Why are you two out at this time?” I hear a voice behind us. I turn around and it’s Snape again. “You gave us detention,” George says,his voice steady. “We’re heading back from that,” Snape grunts in acknowledgement. “And why are you down here?” He asks George. “This is the way to the Slytherin common room. Last time I checked, you are a Gryffindor and have no place here,” George nudges me with his elbow. I snap to full attention. “Fern’s a dead-man walking right now. They were worse upstairs. I didn’t want them to fall down the stairs,” Snape strides up to George and puts his nose in the boy’s face. “Other student’s aren’t currently your concern. Hornbeam can make it back just fine. Get lost,” George tosses me a concerned look and I nod sleepily. “Fine. Good night, Professor,” The boy strides past the greasy-haired man and disappears into the darkness. “Head to bed, Hornbeam. I don’t want you skulking around, especially not with the likes of him,” I nod and turn around, my mind a blur until I’m in my bed.  
That was eventful. I think sleepily as I pull the blanket up to my chin. Can’t believe Ifound a pair of Gryffindors like that. I’m sure they’re in the minority though. I reach up and turn the lamp next to me off. I fall asleep immediately afterwards, all my energy drained out of my body for once.


	4. Chapter 4

About a week and a half later, I’m dragging myself out of bed yet again. I push the door to the small room open and Jackson smiles at me from the couch. “Morning Fern. You’re up early,” “What time is it?” I ask with a yawn. Jackson looks down and taps something “Oi! Kadence! What’s the time?” Kadence sits up and rubs her eyes, her black, coily hair bouncing as she shakes her head. She glances down at her wrist. “It’s five thirty-two,” “Brilliant!” I say, energy somehow surging into me. “I’m-woo!- going to see some friends,” “Since when do you have friends?” Jackson laughs. I take my shoe off and throw it at him. “Ouch!” He whines, rubbing his skull. “I do too have friends! And they’re better than anyone else in this room,” I don’t mean that. I mean, Slytherin is the best house. Therefore, we’re better than everyone else. But I wanna dig deep. Jackson scoffs. “No one is better than me. Sort yourself out,” He turns away from me and I head towards the door.   
“Where are you going?” I turn around and Draco is sitting at a table, tapping his foot on the ground. “You heard- rubbish!- me,” I say harshly. “I’m hanging out with some friends,” “Oh, please!” Draco stands up. His goons must be asleep. “You’re going to slink around with those degenerate friends of yours again, aren’t you?” I roll my eyes. “They’re not degenerates,” I return. “Well, they’re friends with you. And they’re probably the ones you got detention with last week.” “”Just because I got detention with them doesn't make them degenerates,” I return angrily. “You got detention with them on the first blimmin day of school of course they're degenerates,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “ Listen, Draco. I don't have time for this right now. I'll see you at breakfast,” “Fine,” Draco spits out angrily. “ I just hope it's not Gryffindors you're sneaking around with. You’d be a total house traitor if you did that,” I swallow. If Malfoy wants to find something out he's going to. I have to be low-key about this. “I'm not meeting up with a Gryffindor. It doesn't really matter right now because it's not a Gryffindor. Okay?” Draco nods begrudgingly. “ as long as it's not a Gryffindor,” he agrees. “ But I better see you at breakfast. Don't you dare be late,” “I won't- woah!- be,” I say smoothly, pressing the brakes that opens the door to our house from the inside.  
I step out from the common room and run up the stairs. The light of the early autumn Thursday shines through the long, thin windows in the front of the castle. It makes me smile, a shiver running down my spine as I climb the staircase towards the Gryffindor common room. On my way up the staircase I stop. What am I doing? I ask myself. It’s 5:30. Why in the world am I meeting up with Gryffindors? Who am I kidding? Draco’s right. If I keep hanging out with these two, I’ll be a house traitor. Can’t let that happen. I turn around, heading back down the stairs two at a time. “Nope, nope, nope- woohoo!- nope, nope!” I round back into the Slytherin common room, and I sigh when I notice that everyone is awake. Draco walks up to me, that slimy smile on his face. He pats me on the shoulder, Crabbe and Goyle marching up to us. “What’d I tell you boys?” Draco starts. “We don’t have any traitors here,” I sigh and push past the goons, dragging Draco with me. I throw him into an arm chair and sit in the one across from him.  
“Oi! You,” I point at the nearest person, a girl with black, bobbed hair. “What’s your name?” The girl gives me a weird look. “Pansy Parkinson. What’s it to you?” “Magnificent, I don’t care,” I say, paying attention to the skull mounted on the wall. “Could you go find us some tea?” “I don't know if there is any,” The girl spits poisonously. I sigh annoyedly. “ that is the point of finding some. god you're an imbecile,” An angry blush fills the girl’s cheeks.   
“Who do you think you're talking to?”   
“ I frankly don't care,”  
“You know what?”   
“What?”  
“I'm just about done with this attitude of yours-”  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa whoa!” Jackson says, walking over to us. “Stop trying to fight at six in the goddamn morning. Parkinson. The tea stuff is on the mantle. Hornbeam, you make it yourself,” “That’s what I was planning to do!” I call to Jackson's back. Parkinson practically drops the tray of tea stuff on the table. “Here you go, jackass,” She punches my arm as she leaves and I just laugh it off. “I like her,” I say as I grab the tea pot. “Aguamenti,” I set the full teapot on the small burner, dishing out cups with tea bags to myself and the boy across from me. “Why on earth do you like her?” Draco asks me, leaning forwards in his armchair. “You know I’m fond of- fuck off!- people who have a bite to them. Why else do you think I’m friends with you?” I laugh, but Draco only chuckles. “What?” I ask. “It’s just weird that you constantly say we’re friends,” Draco says smoothly. “Well, we’ve known each other our whole lives,” I mutter. “Yes, I suppose there’s that,” Draco says to me. “But you know that time has nothing to do with relation, right?” “Oh, I know that,” I return. And I know this to be true. But it still digs into a part of my soul that I didn’t know could be hit. We spend the next hour talking about school, and Draco’s plans to take over the world some day.   
“Oh, my god,” I mutter when the notion comes up. “I- piss off!- forgot that this was your life goal,” “You think I can’t do it?” Draco asks indignantly. I shrug. “I mean, with your money, ego and ability to make anyone with an IQ lower than a moldy sock follow you like a puppy?” Draco nods, egging me on. “You’ll be running the UK by fifth year,” Draco grins at me and laughs to himself. “You’re damn right. Anyway, it's time for breakfast. Let’s head out. Crabbe! Goyle!” The lackeys trample against the ground as we walk towards the dining hall. A surge of power ripples through me at the feeling. I’ve felt like this since I was little. I’ve always been like a second Draco. The only person with more authority than me is the Malfoy himself. Crabbe rams the door open and I push in front of Draco, sprinting to the Slytherin table. I’m starving, and Blaise is already there. “My dude!” Blaise looks up at me and pats the seat next to him. I sit down and Blaise pushes a plate of food towards me. “Eat. Despite what you’ve said, you’re not too punk to skip breakfast,” He tells me sternly. “Hey-” “Shut up and eat your eggs,” He snaps. “Fine, maybe I will,” I mutter, grabbing my fork and stabbing at my food.  
Blaise pulls a schedule out of his pocket. “We have Quidditch today,” He says casually. “With Gryffindors,” I groan and slam my head into the table. “Hey, can you not?” A girl across from me hisses. I look up at her, my sharp green eyes stabbing into her warm brown ones. “Not do- fuck off!- do what?” The girl recoils slightly, her nose wrinkling at the tic. “Can you not… slam your head into the table? You’re gonna make a mess,” I nod, exasperated. “Sure. Probably got brain damage anyway,” “With a brain as damaged as yours, it’s impossible to get any worse,” Draco says, turning his head towards me. “So you’re pretty much fine,” “Bugger off,” I snap. A second later, the mail comes in. Just like every morning, hundreds of owls pour into the dining hall. Cobalt glides over to me, two notes in his beak and a parcel around his leg. “Hey, baby boy,” I whisper to the bird. The owl drops the letters on my plate and sticks his leg out to me. I take undo the twine and give Cobalt a sausage in return. “You can go to the owlery now,” I tell him. “I can’t let you into the dorm.” The bird blinks and then flies away. I decide to open the package first. When I open it I grin. It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time. I skin-tight necklace that looks like a silver snake. “Thanks Narcissa,” I mumble to myself.   
I look over the letters. One is in a black envelope and the other just seems to be school parchment. I slide my thumb under the black envelope first and pull the sheet of paper out, reading the letter to myself.  
Dear Fern, I’m sorry we’ve written Draco more than you. We assumed your mother would be writing to you, but I see that she hasn't changed. I hope the gift I sent makes up for it. Don’t let anyone else wear it. It’s got a wee bit of black magic tied to it. I miss you. Hopefully we’ll see you at christmas time in a couple months. Have a great day.Please write me back, love. -Narcissa  
I swallow when I read that note. It hits me differently than Lucius’s dry inquiries into my schoolwork. So does the gift. I put the necklace on and the cool metal burns my skin. I look across from me, and the shape looks like the earring the brown-eyes girl is wearing. I smile at the coincidence. I glance down to the parchment, and something in my stomach sinks. I don’t know who it could be from. The Malfoy’s send letters in black and grey stationary. Packages from school come from an owl that isn’t Cobalt. Daily Prophet comes on it’s own. I don’t know anyone that would send me a letter like this. Still, I know it’s mine. It’s addressed to me. I make sure no one sitting next to me is watching and open the folded piece of paper. I squint, trying to decipher the frantic handwriting.  
Hornbeam! What is wrong with you?! You can’t just flake on us like that. Honestly, who do you think we are? Snakes?! You’ve never missed a day. Why was today so special?! I’ve had it. You’re meeting up with us for the entirety of the night. Maybe then you won’t suck so hard. -F/G  
I look behind me. All across the room I see Fred and George staring daggers into me. It makes my stomach drop. They look pissed. So, incredibly pissed. I turn around, my eyes wide and my lungs not working. “What’s wrong with you?” The girl across from me asks snidely. “If you must know…” I pause, blanking on her name. “Radelle,” She says as she rolls her eyes. “If you must- fucking crybaby!- know, Radelle, I’m pretty sure two people want to beat my ass into the concrete,” Radelle glances behind me and her eyes freeze in position mine are in. “They’re Gryffindors,” She says, feigning nonchalance. “They’ll trip over their own shoelaces before they can throw a decent punch,” “These two are faster than I am,” I glance up at her. “And their shoes don’t have laces on them,” Panic washes over us, but we make eye contact and break into laughter. “I mean they’re obviously Weasleys! Of course they don’t have shoe laces,” Radelle laughs. I laugh with her, but something small tugs on me. I push it down, because it is kind of funny. “Alright, Outsider,” Draco says to me as we finish up our food. “You remember our schedule, right?” I nod. “Follow the classes, walk next to you, embarrass nobody,” Draco nods, smacking my back. “Brilliant,” We get up, pushing past other first years to get to our first class. Draco leads us past the Gryffindor table, and something catches his eye. Neville Longbottom, a boy I remember from potions, is holding a little glass ball. Draco grabs it and smirks. I go to snatch it from him, because I want to see, and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the Twin’s younger brother, jump to their feet. Immediately I roll my sleeves up, ready to fight them if they try anything. Before anything can happen, though, Professor McGonagall seems to appear behind us. “What’s going on here?” She asks briskly. “M-Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor,” Neville stammers. Draco scowls and drops the Remembrall on the table. “Just looking,” He says, sauntering away with Crabbe, Goyle and Radelle. Ron makes eye contact with me before I leave. “What?’ I ask, very uncomfortable. “After dinner,” He snaps. “That letter,” Ron points the the parchment gripped in my fist. I glup, not wanting to make eye contact with the Twins who are nearby. “Right,” I nod, kind of pissed off.  
The next few periods are a blur. It all fuses together in my mind, I’m so bored. It mainly consists of me chatting with Radelle when we shouldn’t be talking and Draco bragging about how good he is at flying. Radelle is actually a pretty chill person. Sure, she’s plagued with the entitlement and ego of a typical Slytherin. But that doesn’t matter. I mean, Draco’s ego makes her look as self-conscious as a muggle-born on her first day of school.   
“Okay, but you can’t possibly know what the Malfoy Manor looks like,” Radelle scoffs as we walk towards the Quidditch area. “I mean, no one’s really allowed in there, right? It’s hard to get there in the first place,” I sigh. “Yeah, I can know,” I tell her. “How?” She asks bluntly. “Because I basically live there you ingrate,” Radelle’s eyes go wide, glancing from me to Draco. “You live there?” She asks excitedly. “What’s it like? Are there hidden passages? Cursed jewelry? He has to have a house elf, right?” “Quit asking questions,” Draco and I snap. “It’s my house. Not Hornbeam’s, not yours,” Draco tells Radelle. ‘It’s none of your business,” “Merlin’s beard, I was just asking a question,” Radelle scoffs, rolling her eyes. Draco groans and shoots her a look. ‘Yeah. A question that wasn’t any of your business,” “You know what?” Radelle laughs. “I’m real sick of your attitude, mister,” “Oh really-” “Guys!” I snap, pushing the two away from each other. “You can rip each other apart when there’s a- woohoo!- class for it, or during- wee!- rec time,” I start walking, tailing Blaise and Pansy’s robes towards the Quidditch pitch. “I want to beat Draco’s ass at broom riding. So, let’s go,” I get more antsy as we walk, slightly dancing as we walk.  
“Can… can you not?” Draco asks sharply as we stand in line. “Yeah. You look kind of… spazzy,” Radelle chimes in. I exhale and nod, tapping my chest with my forefingers to distill the excitement bubbling up inside of my chest. Madam Hooch strides over the grass and stands at the brooms in front of us. Fred and George have told me about these brooms. Fred always complains that they’re too slow and fly off center. George warned me about the shakiness and their tendency to dip forwards. I decide that I’m going to fly the broom no matter how awful my broom is. Madam Hooch’s amber eyes glide over us, as if she’s trying to pick us apart. “Well, what are you all waiting for?” She asks us. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.” I immediately jump next to a broom. It’s smoother than the broom next to me, which has small twigs all over the handle. “Stick out your right hand over your broom and say ‘Up!’”Madam Hooch continues.   
“Up!”  
Unlike most of the other people here, my broom jumps up immediately. I excitedly look at the kid next to me, who’s broom also shot up. We make eye contact, and grins back at me. I immediately look away, realizing it’s Potter not wanting to deal with him. Instead I look to Radelle, who’s standing on my other size. Her broom jumped a bit, but it fell back down to the ground. I breathe out, deciding to be helpful for once. “Y’know, brooms can kind of tell if you’re scared,” I tell her. “Like owls?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I was thinking of a crup, but yes! Like an owl,” I grab her hand and stick it out,holding it there. “Now, don’t focus on the hesitation. Focus on excitement,” Radelle shuts her eyes and breathes out. “Up!” She barks. The unsanded broom shoots up into her palm and I let go. “See?” I chuckle. “Great job,” Radelle doesn’t thank me, she just smugly grins to herself, holding her broom at arms length. “Alright,” Madam Hooch continues. “Put your dominant leg over your broom. Angle the handle slightly up so you don’t fall off. Dominant hand in behind your non-dominant,” The woman walks around us, prodding out legs or arms or brooms in certain areas. “Mister Malfoy. Dominant behind your non-dominant,” Madam hooch quipps. “I’ve always done it this way,” Draco protests. “Well, you’ve always done it wrong,” She returns. I look over at Draco and laugh at his red face. “I told you!” I snicker. “You owe me fifty galleons!” “Shut it, Outsider!” Draco snaps. I turn away, Radelle chuckling at Draco’s embarrassment.   
“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” Madam Hooch tells us, grabbing the . “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three, two-” Before Madam Hooch can even blow the whistle, Neville Longbottom kicks off the ground. I snap my eyes up to him, confused about what’s happening. “Come back, boy!” The teacher yells. But I know there’s no chance of that. Up, up and up he goes. “Welp. Longbottom’s off to see God,” Radelle comments. I laugh cruelly, covering it up with my sleeve. Suddenly, there’s a loud thump and a sickening cracking sound. It’s Draco’s turn to laugh, and I kick him in the shin as Madam Hooch rushes over to the boy on the ground. I hear her mutter something about a broken wrist as she helps Neville to his feet. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing!” Madam Hooch barks at us. “You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.” She leads the crying boy away, and the second they can’t hear Draco starts laughing again. “Did you see his face, the great lump?” He asks me and Radelle. At that I can’t help but snicker again, wheezing as I try to stop. All the other Slytherin’s join in, laughs ranging from snickers to wheezing to giggles.   
“Shut up, Malfoy,” A girl, Pavarti Patil, snaps. “Oh, sticking up for Longbottom?” I ask. “That’s a first, even for you lot,” Radelle tells her. “Never thought you’d like fat little crybabies, Parvati,” Pansy snickers. Parvati’s fist shake at her sides, and I start to put my hair up, preparing for a fight. “Look!” Draco says, the tension transferring. He darts forwards, grabbing something that’s in the grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him,” “Give that here, Malfoy,” I look over to the voice, as does everyone else. Talking ceases as Potter stares at Draco, his arms folded. “I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it,” Draco replies with a nasty grin. “How about… up a tree?” “Give it here!” Potter yells. But he doesn’t yell soon enough. Draco’s already off the ground, floating on his broom at tree level. “Wasn’t lying about his skill set, huh?” Radelle whispers to me. “Oh, no,” I respond. “He’s got an ego, but he brags about things he’s good at,” Radelle nods.   
“No!” Hermione Granger shouts at him. “Madam Hooch told us not to move — you’ll get us all into trouble,” “Don’t be a killjoy!” I yell at her. “I wanna see this play out,” Radelle sits down, staring up at the sky. “Someone’s gonna get knocked off,” She laughs. “They won’t need to worry about brain damage, so it’ll be fine,” I nod at her remarks. “Definitely,” I reply. “Give it here!” Potter yells at Draco. “Or I’ll knock you off your broom,” “Called it!” Radelle comments. “Oh, yeah?” Draco asks, unable to hide the quiver in his voice. Without a second’s though, Potter launches at him. “Woah!” I yell. A few Gryffindors clap at the move, and I have to admit that I’m impressed. “No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Potter tells Draco. “Catch it if you can, then!” Draco tosses the Remembrall up into the air, and it falls towards the ground. Potter rockets down after it, and I can’t help but grin when he catches it. “Did you see that?” I hiss to Radelle excitedly as Professor McGonagall comes outside, scolding the boy. “Yeah, I did,” Radelle responds breathlessly. “It was so impressive!” I whisper. “Like, that was something only an experienced seeker could do. That’s incredible,”  
“You… you didn’t just say that,” Crabbe says, baffled. “Uh, yeah, ya oaf,” I respond. “I- rubbish!- did,”   
“But, he’s a Gryffindor,”  
“So?”  
“So, he’s the enemy,”  
“I can’t… I can’t appreciate a good Quidditch move?”  
“No, you can’t,” Another first year, Daphne Greengrass says to me. She steps towards me, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why not?” I ask, not quite understanding the rule. “It was a good Quidditch move,” “Yeah, but appreciating it makes you a house traitor!” She yells shrilly. “What did you just call me?” I ask, my voice soft and slightly dangerous sounding. Daphne steps towards me, poking one of her sharp nail into my sternum. “House traitor,” She says slowly, grinning. Immediately, I smack her right in the teeth. She falls over, the people around us stepping back. Radelle stands up, running over to Draco. I finish putting my hair up, tabbing my wand through the knot. Daphne gets back to her feet, putting her hand to her lip. “I’m bleeding!” She cries. “Oh really?” I ask, dropping my robe to the ground and pushing my sleeves up past my elbows. “Yeah!” She shrieks. “You want payback?” I ask. “As a matter of fact, I do!”  
She shoots her hand out, her palm catching me in the eye socket. It knocks my head back and she takes the opportunity to punch me in the stomach. I grit my teeth and bring my body back up. “Fuck her up, Fern!” Radelle shouts. I launch my weight at Daphne, sending my palm right into her nose. I hear her shriek in pain, and thick red blood falls over her lips and on to my fingers. She pulls back and punches me in the same spot. I feel white heat shoot into my face, and I can’t breathe out of my nose. “Well. That’s broken,” I laugh. I ram my shoulder into Daphne’s chest, sending her backwards. She jumps back up and grabs my head, trying to slam my teeth into her knee. I tilt my head and my cheeks rams into the joint. An “oh!” ripples through the people around up and I bring myself back up, slightly dazed. “Fall over!” I hear Draco yell at me. “Shut… shut up!” I call back, sighing into the words slightly. I swing my arm up and it comes into contact with her jaw. Daphne falls over, and she doesn’t get up. “Okay…” She pants, trying to stop the bleeding in her nose. “You win,”  
“What is going on!?” A voice yells. I turn my head over to see Madam Hooch. She’s angry. Very, very angry. She grabs me by the arm and helps Daphne to her feet. “All of you, back to the Great Hall. You two. We’re going to the Hospital Wing,” As Daphne and I are dragged inside, I can overhear Ron Weasley talking with another kid. “Hopefully Hornbeam doesn’t get expelled,” I hear him laugh. “Because that was awesome,” “Never, in all my time here, have two students fought like that,” Madam Hooch tells me and Daphne as we get lead upstairs. “It’s disgraceful!”   
“Two more or you, Poppy,” Madam Hooch tells the nurse in the hospital wing. The nurse, who I remember being told was Madam Pomfrey, looks shocked at the sight of us. “Yes. Sit them down and I’ll get to them,” Madam Hooch looks down at me as she leaves. I swear she’s smiling slightly, and part of me wonders if she saw the fight and what happened before it. But the smile is replaced with a scowl and she leaves. Madam Pomrey grabs my hand and sits me down on one of the beds. The adrenaline has left my body and all the pain is surging into my face. “I can’t… I can’t feel my face,” I tell her. Madam Pomfrey nods and touches my nose. I flinch slightly. “Well, it seems you still have feeling. It’s probably a pain overload. I have to do something, and you can stay here for a little if you’d like,” I nod. Madam Pomfrey leaves and then reappears, handing me a small mug of something that smells very strong. “It;s gonna hurt like hell to heal, dear,” She tells me. I nod, and knock the glass back. The liquid rolls down my throat and I feel like there’s fire in my face. I shriek slightly and Madam Pomfrey hands me a rag filled with ice. “Hold this to your cheek, Fern” She tells me. I nod, and Madam Pomfrey leaves me to tend to Daphne. Daphne doesn’t make any noise, and she gives me a smug smile. “Looks like I’m the stronger one after all,” She muses. “Eat. Shit,”  
“Fern!” I hear someone yell. I turn my head and see Radelle and Draco standing in the doorway. “Fern! Merlin’s beard, that was a good fight!” Radelle laughs. The two run over to me and sit on either side of me. I face Radelle first, laughing as I drink in her excitement. “No, like, it happened so fast! She just called you… that and wham! I mean, it was obviously self defense. She was way too close and threw the first punch. But you really handed her ass to her!” I laugh again and hug her with one arm, my sides hurting from the joy. “Look at me,” I hear Draco say. I listen and turn my face to him. He puts his left hand the ice pack, prodding my other cheek and nose with his free hand. “Mhm,” he nods. “Open your mouth,” I open my mouth and he stretches my cheek back. “Can you get your fingers out of my mouth?” I snap. Draco retracts his hands and sighs annoyedly. “Just checking to make sure I don’t have to pay your dental bills,” Radelle and I both laugh at him. “Like you’d offer,” Radelle sneers at him. I nod in agreement. Draco’s face burns in anger, but he eventually laughs with us.  
“So, what did you guys do before coming to see me?” Radelle purses her lips and looks over to Draco. “I think he should take this one,” She snickers. “Uhhhh, Radelle was asking questions again,” “You told her nothing again, you ferret. Didn’t ya?” I respond. “No, actually,” Draco chuckles. “She was asking questions about you, so I told her whatever she wanted to know,” My stomach drops. “What… did you tell her?” I ask. “Mainly about you being a freaky swamp kid who got into fights all the time and had shitty grades,” Radelle laughs at me. My face burns. “Well, Draco never left the house, so I had to do it for the two of us,” I huff indignantly. The two just laugh at me. “Alright, you two,” Madam Pomfrey says, walking over to us. “I know Fern seems well, but that was a nasty fight. I want them to stay here alone for a little bit. You can come pick them up for dinner, alright?” “Oh, please, Madame Pomfrey,” I say quickly. I feel fine, and I don’t manage time well. Could I please have one of them stay so I have some company?” Madam Pomfrey exhales and shakes her head slightly. “Fine. Just don’t be too rambunctious,” I nod and smile. “Thank you so much!” Draco stands up, brushing dust off his robes. “I want to finish my homework. It’s more important than this. Radelle, you can stay,” The boy leaves, and Radelle smiles at me. It’s not a kind smile. It’s more of an, ‘I’m about to tell you something insane’ type of smile. “What’s up with you?” I ask her. “You want to know what we really talked about?” I nod at her response. “Yeah, what is it?”  
“He was talking shit about you,”  
“What?”  
“I mean, when we were outside and heading up here, he was talking about how you fighting was a ‘stupid idea’ and that you’re ‘practically a Gryffindor for fighting your own kind,”  
“You’re lying,”  
“No. No I am not,”  
“Why should I believe- woohoo!- you?”  
“Fern,” Radelle says sternly, placing her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes are bright with indignation, like she’s trying to set me on fire. “I’m telling the truth,” Something about the way she says that makes me certain that I was wrong. I nod, ready to punch Draco in his pointed nose. “Please don’t tell him I told you,” She whispers. “What?” I ask rudely. “Why shouldn’t I?” “Because!” Radelle begs exasperatedly. “I want this to be dropped. This was all you really needed to know,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Sure. Fine. Whatever,” I laugh. “Glad you told me, Radelle,” I tell her. “Now I have a reason to be mad at that weasel boy,” It’s Radelle’s turn to laugh. I laugh with her. About two and a half hours later, Madam Pomfrey lets me go down to dinner. During that time my eyes have swollen up, but due to the healing potion they’re not swelled shut. Radelle laughs at me, saying I look like two fistfulls of Fizzing Whizbees were slammed into my face. “And your face looks like rhubarb pie,” I return. Radelle laughs, pushing my shoulder. “Jokes on you. I like rhubarb pie,” I nod in agreement.  
When we get downstairs, I make eye contact with Draco right away. He acts like nothing happens, so Radelle and I do the same. I sit next to Blaise, and he hands me three notes. “They were delivered like two minutes ago," he said stiffly. “They’re for you,” I open the first one. It’s a letter from the school, but this one is from Madam Hooch, not McGonagall. It’s different. Instead of telling me I’m expelled, it tells me that I only have a couple week’s worth of weekend detention, starting this Sunday. “‘You would’ve been suspended if you threw the first punch. You can thank your friend Ronald Weasley for clearing that point up…’” I read. This confuses me. I brush it off, not caring about it. I don’t have to spend time in my house. The second is from Fred and George again.   
Remember! Forty minutes after dinner. In front of the kitchen. If you’re late, Fred will chop your hair off. -F/G.   
I shiver, stroking my brown hair. I now sure I won’t skip on meeting up. There’s one more letter, and I decide to read this one out loud. “‘Your head looks like the first slice of bread,’” Radelle, Draco and Blaise bust out laughing at me. I shove the letter into my mouth, chew it and swallow. “What the hell was that?!” Draco asks. “I ate it,” I say plainly. “Wh-Why?” Blaise stammers. I sit down, grabbing a piece of beef and kidney pie, taking a large bite. “I was- weee!- hungry,” I respond, shrugging.   
“What’s up firsties!?” I look up and see Jackson, grinning as he sits down. His sharp, pale brown eyes glide over me, and I can tell he’s staring at Radelle. Kadence sits down next to him, her coily hair moving like a cartoon character’s. “Never seen you around here. Are you… did you come here late?” Radelle rolls her eyes, pointing at the fourth year. “No. I just started hanging out with Goat Human, Ferret Face and Blaise,” She snaps. “Why- Why is Blaise the only one without a nickname?” I ask. “It’s because I’m not annoying,” Blaise tells me. “No,” Radelle responds, still boring her eyes into Jackson’s face. “It’s because you have no defining characteristics,” Kadence and Jackson laugh and Blaise sulks. “I mean, if you don’t count how his name sounds like a Muggle comic book character,” Radelle joins in with the laughter, and Blaise smiles. “Words can hurt, y’know,” He says, exaggerating the pain in his voice. I push his shoulder, clicking as my ear shoots to my shoulder. “You’re a Slytherin!” I joke. “Grow thicker skin,” “Yeah!” Jackson chuckles. “Can’t be here if you get discouraged by things that petty,” Anyone within earshot nods in agreement.  
“You hear that, Fern?” Draco asks. “You can’t cry over those letters if you get more,” I roll my eyes, not appreciating him taking a dig at bullying in my past. Draco sits down, as do Crabbe and Goyle. Only now do I realize they were gone. “Where did you guys go?” Radelle asks them. “Oh, no where,” Draco says cooly. “Just found a way to get Potter expelled,” “He’s still here? After Quidditch?” Blaise asks. “Nevermind that,” Draco snaps. “He won’t be here tomorrow, I’ll tell you that,”  
***  
“Another one!” Blaise yells. I run out of my bedroom, my toothbrush still in my mouth. “What- rubbish!- is it?” I ask, spitting the foam out into the common room fire. “Gross!” Radelle shouts, pulling her scroll closer to her. “Some people are trying to do homework!” She complains. “Oh, shove it,” I tell her. Blaise sticks his hand out and I snatch the envelope out of it. I flop down onto the black leather couch and read the letter out loud. “‘Your forehead is a six head. Get some bangs, you freaking loser,’” I smack my lips together as Draco, Radelle and Blaise snicker. “I’m not getting bangs!” I yell at the ceiling. “Draco know how those look on me,” Alexandra Potter, same last name but no relation to the Boy Who Lived, raises her eyebrows at the blonde. “Like a peppermint humbug with one colour switch,” He responds. Marcus Flint, wheezes swearing as knocks a bottle of ink on to the rug. “What did you just do?!” I yell at him. “That rug’s older than your family tree!” “The rug is navy blue!” Flint snaps back. “No one will notice!” I walk up to him and smack his troll-sized arm with your toothbrush. “We will!” My Irish accent starts shining through as I yell. “The carpet’s banjaxed now, you bloody eejit!” Flint blinks at me, turning his eyes to Malfoy. “Yeah,” He says, almost disappointed. “They… that’s their actual- That’s their accent,” Radelle chuckles. “I like it! It’s weird,” She says. I crane my head over at her, brush my teeth quickly and spit the foam out on to her paper.   
“Oh my-! Why would you do that?!” She screams, frantically trying to shake the foam off. “You were bothering me and I don’t wanna punch you,” “So you decided to risk giving me HIV?” She yells back. “That’s not how HIV is spread, you floozie!” “How did we get here?!” Blaise screams, flopping onto the couch. “I don’t know!” I cry, falling down next to him. Draco walks over to Radelle and I decide not to pay attention to him, rather choosing to pay attention to Kadence. She’s walking over with a tray full of china, placing it down. There’s the teapot from earlier this morning, but there are different teacups. “Oh!” Jackson says excitedly. “Is it time for the ceremony?” Flint nods. “It’s been like a week and a half, so yeah,” “What are you talking about?” I ask. “Well, after a week and a half of being sorted, each first year gets to transfigure a cup of their choice for tea. It shows that you’re officially one of us,” Blaise and I nod, leaning forwards.  
Kadence shows me examples, my excitement mounting with each one. Marcus Flint’s cup is deceptively simple. Navy green all on the outside, but the inside is black dots with white snakes slithering around the pain. Jackson has a tall, thin, black mug, the handle stemming out in two ways and covered in silver chains and teeth. Kadence’s is shaped like a tulip. It’s very short and round, the base looking like Devil’s Snare. “Okay, okay, okay!” Radelle says excitedly. “Can we do ours now?” Kadence nods, yelling around the common room and up to the dorm’s steps. “First years! Get over here!” After everyone’s here, we start the process. It’s long, as we have to learn a third year transfiguration spell on a first year level. But after about an hour, and twenty teacups turning into mice, every first year has their own mug. Radelle’s is silver metal snakes, curled around each other to make the cups’s body, the heads coming out to make the handle. She turns it, inspecting each angle, grinning as the green flames make it practically glow in the dark room. I want to hold it, but it bites anyone who isn’t her. Blasie’s cup is practically an hourglass, a tall bulging thing that would constantly keep the tea rotating and the sugar diffused. Pansy has a simple black cup, but when heated up it turns into an angry green ocean. Draco’s is emerald green, glittery chains and jewels decorating it. I’m very proud of mine. It’s dark blue, and has green gradated planets on it, red shooting stars flying past them and random intervals. A silver space elevator moves up and down the handle, twisting away from my fingers.  
Kadence fills our cups with tea and we all settle down, whispering with one another as time ticks by. I look up at the clock and choke on my tea, spilling the hot liquid all over my bare feet. “What the hell, Fern?” Kadence yells. “I need to go to bed!” I say quickly. Kadence scoffs and I run to my bedroom, slamming my hand into the brick two feet away from my headboard. It opens up to a passage that I found on my fifth day here. I walk down the passageway, crawling out of the vent that leads into the large pantry. I shake off the dampness of the passageway, running past the house elves to the front of the kitchen. I open the door, smiling when I see Fred and George heading down the hallway towards me.   
“Oh. Hi, Scar-face,” Fred, I assume, says. I’m getting better at telling them apart, but I don’t know one hundred per cent yet. “Nice of you to show up,” He continues saltily. “We were going to show you something fun this morning, but you decided not to come,” I sigh, staring down at my burnt feet. “It’s not like I didn’t want to see you guys,” I mutter. “Oh, sure,” Fred scoffs. “Why didn’t you come then?” I look up at him, my eyes burning. “Because Draco said that- woohoo!- I’d be a house traitor if I came to hang out with Gryffindors and I have more friends now but before breakfast this morning- froggo!- Draco was one of my only Slytherin friends and I didn’t want to lose him because I feel like he would leave me!” I blurt out. Fred blinks at me, taking a step back. George takes a step forward and puts his hand on my shoulders, frowning at me. “He called you… he said you’d be a what?” He asks. “A house traitor?” I repeat, kind of confused. “Oh, dear,” George says. “Is that bad?” I ask. “Yes!” Fred yells. “Why would he- He had no proof-” “What Fred means,” George says slowly. “Is that Malfoy pulled a dick move. ‘House Traitor’ is a term people try not to use too much. Mainly for people who weren’t Slytherins and went to the dark side during You-Know-Who’s reign,” I nod. “A girl called me that today. I pummelled her ass,” I laugh. George chuckles and pats my head. “Atta-Fern!”  
“Alright! Sweet, older-brother-esque, friendship crap out of the way, let’s get to what we planned, George,” Fred says impatiently. George nods and waits for me to start walking before we follow his brother. “What’re we doing?” I ask the twins. “Put love potions in the pumpkin juice supply? Bewitch the cauldrons to throw up anything inside them? Replace the teacher’s wands with firecrackers?” “We’re actually not pulling any pranks tonight,” Fred tells me. “Although we should page that last one for the future,” “We’re going to one of the best places to hang out,” George tells me proudly. “It’s only fun at night though. Or at sunset,” “Are we heading to the astronomy tower or something?” I ask. George’s ears turn red and he laughs, Fred zooming over to me. His nose is an inch from mine and he’s staring at me. “Please explain to me how you guessed that,” He demands. I sidestep, trying to seperate myself from the overeager boy. “Because I take astronomy and George said it was only good at night,” I say awkwardly. Fred nods, walking on my right as George is on my left. “Yes, I suppose that would give it away, wouldn’t it,”   
As we walk from the bowels of the castle up towards the crown, I feel some weight lifted off my shoulders. They have a different energy than anyone else I know. Radelle, Blaise, Jackson and Kadence are my best, and only, friends. But they’re plagued by Slytherin ideologies, including classism and prejudice against muggleborns. Draco and the Malfoys are my chosen family. I associate them with being wanted. But sometimes I feel like they don’t want me. Like I’m a burden to them. But the twins are different. I did insist, but they chose me. And when I didn't turn up to something, Fred wasn’t mad that I wasted their time or made them break a promise. He seemed to be angry that I didn’t get to experience something. And it feels nice.   
“Ouch...” My train of thought is interrupted when stabbing pain shoots through my foot. The tea burns aren’t severe, but some of them blistered and it hurts to walk. George looks over at me. “What’s up with you, Fern?” George asks. “Oh, it’s nothing,” I say casually. “I spilled a mug of boiling tea all over my feet,” “You what?” Fred asks, slightly baffled. “You should not be walking!” “It’s not severe!” I reassure him. “Just stings a bit!” Fred sighs angrily through his nose. “I really don’t want you to miss this, Fern-” “They can ride on my back,” George cuts in. “I mean, they’re smaller than Ron and I can still carry him,” I nod at the idea. A second later we’re moving faster, my arms locked over George’s collar bone. “You know, this is- woohoo!- pretty fun,” I say, hoping I don’t sound as elated as I feel. “Yup, yup, yup!” George responds, laughing at himself. “Wait, has no one ever carried you like this before?” He asks as we head up the last flight of stairs. I shake my head. “Figures,” Fred comments. “They practically live with the Malfoys. There’s no childhood affection there,” I lean my chin on George’s shoulder. “Get a load of that wanker,” I chuckle. “Acting like he had a perfect childhood,” George laughs with me. “Ah, I’m glad you didn’t flake on us. You’re fun,” I pull back, my self-confidence shooting through the roof. “Oh, I know,” I say smugly.  
“Alright, G.Get the Snake off of your back,” Before George can drop me I slide off, the cool stone steps sending a chill through my bare feet. “Blind ‘em,” Fred orders. George’s fingers wrap over my eyes and as I’m led up the last forty steps, I just focus on how weird it feels to be blinded and feel totally safe. I hear a door open and Fred pull a lever. I hear the wooden dome of the astronomy tower roll down, and a chill rolls over my bare arms and I shiver. “Alright, George!’ Fred announces. I can hear the joy in his voice. The excitement of seeing something that never gets old. “Release them!” George takes his fingers off my eyes and I open them.   
The view in front of me makes me gasp.


	5. Chapter 5

The sky is open before me. Stars, moon, planets. White and pastel dots scattered across the rich navy blue of the dark sky. I sink to my knees, my mouth dropped open as I stare up. I can’t get it off my mind, out of my eyes. It’s a kind of feeling I never knew I’d experience. Everything up there, every pinprick of bright light. It reminds me that I’m no more than a small dot in the universe. But I don’t care right now. It’s gorgeous. It’s incredible. I drag my wrist across my eyes, wiping the tears out of them. Fred and George sink down next to me, staring up at the sky. “Dude! Are you crying?” Fred asks me, his voice quieter than normal. “No!” I protest. “I am not!” George throws an arm over my shoulder and laughs. “Fern, you’re an awful liar,” He tells me. I nod, slightly annoyed that I showed a sign of weakness around these two. I reach up behind me and take the bun out of my hair, shaking my hair out over my shoulders. I flop backwards, staring up at the sky. The two follow suit, and we just sit in silence for a minute, staring at the galaxy above us.   
“Fern, your hair is really long,” George comments a little bit later. Without thinking I reach up, pulling my hair closer towards my neck. “Oh, no. It’s not a bad thing,” He reassures me. “It’s just odd. I feel like you’d have shorter hair,” I sigh, unable to shrug. “Yeah,” I agree. “You’d think so,” Fred taps my arm and I look over to him. “What is it?” I ask. “What’s up with you?” He asks. “We’ve only known you for two weeks and we can see the shift you have,” “What do you mean by that, though?” I ask him. “We see your attitude shift,” George explains. “It’s really obvious to us. When you’re with Slytherins you act like them. The posture, the language, even down to your laugh,” I nod, knowing what he’s talking about. “But that’s how I always act,” I say dumbly. “No, it’s not,” Fred tells me. “When you’re with us, it’s different,” “How?” I ask, slightly offended. “George,” Fred motions. “Your shoulders slack, you talk more, your hair’s normally down around us,” I stare at my toes as George rattles off differences, sighing. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to think about why they could notice differences and I couldn’t. But I decide it’s not important and just breathe deeply, letting myself only think about the place I’m at.  
“You guys ever notice how beautiful the sky is?” George asks us. I shake my head, but I can feel Fred nod. “You ask that question every time we come here,” Fred teases. “Hey! Not my fault that space is amazing,” I laugh, my shoulders scraping the ground. “What’s so funny?” George asks me. “You,” I tell him. “Just you guys,” George puts his hands behind his head and I can hear the smug smile in his voice. “Thank you!” “We try,” Fred adds. “Mind if I ask you a question?” I ask Fred. “Sure, go ahead,” He replies. “Were you serious about cutting my hair off?” I ask, squinting at him. “I’m not gonna answer that,” Fred answers. “Oh, he was serious,” His brother laughs. “George!” Fred seeths. “Now I’ll never get to do it!” I inch away from Fred, tucking my hair under my neck. “What is wrong with you?” I ask, annoyed and slightly afraid. “Your hair’s too long, dude!” Fred tells me. “What do you mean, too long?!” I demand. “You like Quidditch, right?” Fred asks. I nod, not sure where he’s going with that. “You wanna be a seeker, right?” I nod again. “The Snitch could get caught in your hair, or you could get it snagged on something,” “But I tie my hair up,” I say plainly. “We once saw a girl with a bun practically get scalped last year,” Fred tells me, sick glee in his voice. George nods. “Ouch…” I mutter. “Yup!” Fred says triumphantly.  
A few hours later, I’m finally yawning. I can feel the heat of the sun creep across my legs, the late night shivers leaving my body.. My head lolls on my shoulders, and to keep myself away I lean on Fred's shoulder. He just laughs, seeming to enjoy it for some reason. He does shake me though, hissing my name. “Fern. Fern! Fern!” I open my eyes at my name, pausing when I look in front of me. The sun is peeking out through the haze of purple clouds, an orange and purple glow dragging it’s fingers across the grounds. Everything is glowing, and the Black Lake is more of the Golden Lake. I chuckle slightly, stretching as I stand up. “I have to go back to my common room now,” I tell them. “Thanks for- Yup! Yup! Yup!- showing me this, you guys,” I turn around and grab my wand, fixing my bun as I walk. “See you later, Scarface!’ Fred yells as I walk. “See you later, Tweedle-dumber,” I yell back.  
I get to the Slytherin common room just as the sun is fully up. I fall onto the couch and fall asleep, only to be woken up by Blaise yelling a second later. “Fern! Fern Fern Fern!” I look up at the panicked boy, squinting at him. “What?” I rasp. Blaise shoves a bundle of mail into my face, and a panicked grin is plastered on his face. I sit up, snatching the bundle out of his hands. Blaise sits next to me, grabbing his hourglass teacup and sipping what’s inside of it. I tear the twine open and count the notes. “God, there’s a lot,” Blaise murmurs. “Twenty nine, to be exact,” I confirm. “Blimey…” I nod. I read some of them out loud, my feelings on them ranging from actually funny to taking a dig at my insecurities. “‘How’d you get those scars on your face? It looks like you made out with a cheese grater.’ ‘You look like Hagrid’s left toenail- How do they know what Hagrid’s toenails look like?” I ask Blaise. He shrugs, laughing at the insult. “‘Some people should use a glue stick instead of chapstick,’” This one cuts deeper. “I mean, I don’t think I talk that much but whatever,” I toss the notes into the fire, sparks flying up the chimney to who knows where.  
Radelle comes bounding into the common room, her hair braided instead of her usual hairstyle. “Morning everyone! Hope you got your beauty sleep,” she says, her eyes sliding over to me. “Some of us need it more than others,” “Fuck you,” I sigh, my head jerking to the side. Radelle sits in the huge armchair next to the couch Blaise and I are on. “Anyways, what were you and Blaise so freaked out about?” She asks, a little too chipper. I squint. “I wasn’t freaked out,” Blaise scoffs, rolling his eyes at Radelle. “I wanted Fern to open their hate mail,” “How did you know it was hate mail?” I ask him, extremely suspicious. Blaise laughs at me. “C’mon, dude. No one’s going to write to you in a positive way,” Draco walks into the room, his grey-blue eyes lighting up with what I take to be malice. “Oh. Fern got more of those notes, did they?” Blaise and Radelle nod. “Interesting,” He chuckles, sitting next to Radelle in the giant chair. “Wait, what do you mean, interesting?” I ask him, sitting up straighter. “I mean, it’s funny. You kind of deserve it,” “What?” I seethe, my lip curling. “Look at you,” Draco says, waving his hand at me. “Messy hair, loud, a literal ticking time bomb,” I sniff indignantly. “Look at you,” I say cooly. “A spoiled, daddy’s boy, ferret-faced git,” Blaise laughs and Radelle looks slightly offended for the blonde.   
“You can’t just say that!” Radelle spits. “Why not?” I ask her. “It’s not Malfoy’s fault he was born into a family like his! You can’t blame someone for being happy in their situation. Also, making fun of how someone looks? That’s not right,” I drag my hands down my face, the hypocrisy giving me a migraine. “He went after my appearance. And my- Yup! Yup! Yup!- tics,” I explain, like I’m talking to a child. “That is true,” Blaise says. “It’s not our fault you look like that!” The two armchair dwellers yell at me. I recoil, deciding to choose my battles. “Fine,” I concede. “You’re right. Can I go get dressed and go to breakfast now?” I don’t wait for their answers. I just stand up and head into my room, throwing my sweater, robe and pants over my pajamas. I walk back into the common room, where Jackson and Blaise are standing near the door. I walk up to them and we all head out, not giving Radelle or Draco even a passing glance.  
***  
“I just don’t think it’s them,” I tell Blaise exasperatedly. “Fine. I’m right though,” He scoffs. I rub the space above my left eye, trying to rub the migraine out. Since breakfast, Blaise has been trying to convince me that Radelle and Draco are the ones writing me those letters. I refuse to believe it. Radelle told me about Draco’s two-facedness yesterday. She wouldn’t change her mind suddenly and join in. Draco is a jerk, but he wouldn’t write me over thirty letters just to insult me. I explain this to Blaise as we walk down the stairs. I’m not looking where I’m going and trip over my robes, crashing down the stairs. Luckily for me I brought my arms up over my head. I come to a stop at the base, and sit up dazed. The floor and walls are spinning around me, blending together in one giant smudge of grey. My hair fell out of its bun and my wand clattered to the flagstones. I reach out for it, clasping my fingers around it’s middle. I see a pair of legs in front of me and look up. They’re connected to Professor Snape’s torso and face. I scoot back, licking the blood off of my split lip. “Can’t you watch where you’re going?” He asks me snidely. “For someone who pays such good attention in class, you’d think that you had cognitive function outside of it,” He smirks at me and moves towards the stairs, talking to the people up there. “Take Hornbeam to your common room. Make sure there are no more… mishaps,”   
“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” Radelle laughs at me back in the common room. I’m holding a damp rag to my lip and lying down on my usual couch. Blaise is sitting at my feet, Pansy at my head, and Radelle and Draco are in their armchair again. “Yeah. Because it’s totally- Yup! Yup! Yup!- abnormal to freak out when you fall down the stairs,” “Oh, please. You didn’t fall,” Draco gripes. “I pushed you,” I sit up, making eye contact with him. “I’m sorry, you did what?” I ask, refusing to believe what I heard. “He pushed you, you deaf, gormless pillock,” Radelle snaps. “Why?!” I demand. “It was a perfect shot!” Draco yells at me. “I mean, you were right there,” “Why would you do that though? Like, despite the convenience?!” “The letters got no reaction! We had to do something that would get one!” Draco claps his hand over his mouth, cursing himself for the slip up. “Told you,” Blaise says in a sing-songy voice. I don’t pay him any mind. “You were the one writing the letters?” I ask, much more sad then I think I would be. “Wasn’t just me,” Draco says proudly. “Radelle helped too,” “Don’t drag me into this,” Radelle says laughing. “You had fun,” Draco jokes. “Don’t even lie,” Radelle nods. “I did have fun, you’re right,” “You- I… I trust you,” I say to Radelle, the hurt in my voice detectable. "Nobody made you trust me, Outsider. That's on you!" Radelle laughs. “Yeah but you still can’t do that,” Pansy joins in. “I mean, we are Slytherin after all. If we fight amongst ourselves, we’re never going to crush anyone else,” “Shut up, you pug-faced dunce,” Draco snaps. Pansy touches her cheek, smacking her lips at her friend. “Low blow, Malfoy. Low blow,” “Aw, we’re just messing,” Radelle giggles. “You know that,” Pansy nods reluctantly. I can tell she just wants to push past the insult. “You know that we didn’t mean anything, right, Fern?” She asks me. “I mean, you were the easiest target. It was nothing personal. I think you’re brilliant,” I breathe deeply, deciding how to react. One one hand, some of those insults actually hurt, and I could’ve broken my neck. On the other hand, I’ve had much worse injuries and much worse insults. So I decide to let it go. “Yeah,” I say, forcing a laugh. “Just messing. You’re allowed to have fun, right?” Everyone nods, and as I sit down, a little bubble of dread in the pit of my stomach. But I push it down, humming to myself as we start shit-talking other people over mugs of tea.  
***

Almost two months later, it’s Halloween afternoon. I’ve kept a tally of the major events that have happened, and I go over them before I go to dinner each day. “I’ve gotten detention six times, one of which spanned over- wheee!- three weeks. I’ve gotten thirty five joke hate mail letters. I’ve met up with Tweedle-dumb- rubbish!- and Tweedle-dumber fifty five times, I have gotten twenty letters from Narcissa, seven gifts from her, seven letters from Lucius and twenty gifts…” I chuckle at that comparison. I can tell who cares more about communication with me. “Oh, yeah. And then there was the time I fell into the Black lake and a Grindylow tried to kill me,” I swing my feet off the side of the bed. The October chill has long ago entered the common room, wrapping it’s icy tendrils around anything not covered in fabric. I stare at the dirty, broken mirror across from me, running my fingers over my hair. It’s not everywhere today, but it’s still kind of a mess. I grab the silver and black metal hairbrush Narcissa sent me and hold it up to my head, smoothing my hair down for once. I smile at myself in the mirror, liking how my hair looks for once.  
I step out into the common room, fixing my robes as I walk. “Hey, you brushed your hair!” Jackson remarks. I nod, glad someone noticed. “You look great!” He continues. “Also, with your hair down, you don’t have to see your hairline! That’s a plus,” “There’s- Yup! Yup! Yup!- something wrong with my hairline?” I ask him. “Oh, no,” Jackson tells me, backpedalling. “Hairline’s are just odd in general,” I nod in silent agreement. “Oh, Merlin’s beard! You brushed your hair!” Radelle laughs. I look over at her. She’s still wearing her snake themed jewelry, as am I, but she’s more festive. She’s wearing a hat that looks like a pumpkin, mock flames dancing over it. Her bracelets are clamps with black chains running off them, and the shoes she’s wearing are buckled dress shoes with dragon wings at the clasps. “Yeah, I did,” I say quietly, tapping my chest with my fingers absentmindedly. “It looks so much better than normal!” She says happily, clasping her hands together. “Anyways, let’s head to dinner. Draco’s meeting us there,” She grabs my arm and starts walking me up the stairs. “You have a good day?” She asks. The question takes me aback. She doesn’t ask about me much. “Actually, yeah. I met up with some friends this morning and-” “That’s great!” Radelle cuts me off, slamming the door of the dining hall open. I gasp, the room making my insides flutter.  
In replacement of the usual candles, Jack-o-lanterns hover in the air. They’re all carved differently, happy smiles and grotesque sneers flashing obout the room. Clouds of live bats zoom around the room, making the light flicker and my hands start flapping from the excitement. The smell of pumpkin pie leaks into my nose, and I have flashbacks to the first time I set foot in the dining hall. I stop walking, shaking off the memories of the contrasting emotions. I hear that girl from Gryffindor, Pavarti Patil, talking about how Hermione Granger, a slightly stuck-up girl who I share Charms and Transfiguration classes with, was crying in the bathroom and wasn’t coming out. This confuses me, because Hermione seems to only have two modes: Know-It-All and proud of herself. Part of me wants to know what’s wrong, but a stronger part of me doesn’t care. Also, Radelle found me lollygagging and dragged me towards our table. “No,” She says to me. “A Gryffindor crying is none of a Slytherin’s concern. Don’t be a-” Radelle pauses. I know what she wants to call me. “Just… stop trying to embarrass us,” I nod slowly, trying to hammer the statement into my mind. I settle down in my seat next to Radelle and Draco, grinning once all the food appears. No sooner than I help myself to a bowl of mashed potatoes do the doors to the hall smash open. I turn around to it and see Professor Quirrell running through the room, eyes wild and turban askew. “Troll!” He yells at the teacher’s table. “In the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon!” He pauses, panting. “Thought you ought to know,” Quirrell falls over in a faint, and the room erupts in chaos.  
There are multiple bangs above the roaring, and I clap my hands over my ears from the overload. The room quiets down eventually, and Dumbledore is yelling orders. “Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!” “Isn’t our House in the- Yup! Yup! Yup!- dungeons?!” I ask frantically. “Who cares?!” Draco snaps, grabbing me and Radelle by the arm. “I want to get behind that wall. Let’s go!” “Quit panicking!” One of our Prefects, Gemma Farley, orders us. “Don’t make noise,” We listen and follow her. Then I remember something. “Hermione!” I yell. “What?” Radelle asks. “Nothing!” I snap. When she turns around I spin on my heel, running towards the girl’s bathroom. Please don’t be dead. I think. Please, please don’t be dead. I stop running when I see Ron Weasley and Harry Potter walking through the hallway. “Hey!” I hiss. They turn to me. Potter looks like he’s trying to remember who I am, and Ron laughs slightly when he sees me. “Hornbeam, right?” He whispers. “Yeah,” I say quickly. “Why are you here? ‘Cause the Granger girl is-”   
“Can you guys smell something?” Ron asks, holding his hand up and cutting me off. Potter and I both sniff, and I can. I want to vomit. It smells of a public toilet that hasn't been cleaned. Ever. It smells like lukewarm pickle juice with rotting beef inside of it. It smells like mayonnaise that had been kept in a warm, damp place. It smells like all of that at the same time. “I’m gonna be sick,” I whisper. “You might wanna wait,” Potter says to me, looking the same direction Ron is. I look with them, and I see the cause of the smell. “I think the- wheee!- troll has left the dungeon,” And there’s no mistaking this for anything else. Grey, spiky, disproportionate extremities, and a stench that could burn the scales of a Rodhesian Ridgeback. The troll stops at a doorway and stands there, like making a decision takes all of its brain power. It shuffles inside, the stink unfortunately not travelling with it. “The key’s in the lock,” Potter whispers to us. “We could lock it in.” “Good idea,” Ron says nervously. We all move towards the door and at the same time, Potter and I jump to it, grabbing the key and pulling the door shut before locking it. “Yes!” The two boys run away in triumph, but I realize what door we just locked. I start trying to unlock it but I can’t grip the key. “Guy-!”  
I’m cut off by a shrill shriek, and the guys take note. “Oh, no,” Ron hisses. “It’s the girls’ bathroom!” I snap at them. “Hermione!” They say, panicked. I finally get a grip on the key and kick the door open, the door dented from the force I use. The Granger girl is slinking away from the troll, the great big thing knocking sinks off the walls. “Confuse it!” Potter pleads. He throws a sink tap against the wall and I start screaming, adding to the noise. The troll turns its ugly head to Potter and starts walking towards him, raising it’s club with each step. “Oy, pea-brain!” Ron yells, throwing a pipe at the troll’s shoulder. It doesn’t notice the pipe but it notices the yell, turning its head to the ginger at the other end of the room. I clap my hands together, trying to distract it. “Over here, you- Yup! Yup! Yup!- ugly arsehole!” I yell. The troll gets even more confused and starts roaring, rushing towards Ron. I look over at Potter and motion towards the troll, my head repeatedly slamming to my shoulder. “Do- rubbish!- something!” Potter just runs at the troll and jumps on it, his wand going up its nose. The troll starts flailing and I run over to Hermione, putting my body in between her and what’s going on. I’m too skinny to actually do anything, but something made me do it.   
Ron pulls his wand out and points it at the flailing club and shouts out a pretty basic charm. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The club rises up into the air, turning on its axis and dropping down onto the troll’s coconut-sized head. There’s a sickening crack and a loud thud when the wood falls to the floor. The large creature sways in its place and drops to the floor face first. Potter lifts himself up, shaking and dazed. He and Ron are panting, and my palms are sweating so bad that I have to stop myself from cleaning them in the puddle of unknown liquid on the floor. “Is it… dead?” Hermione asks,her body still pressed into the wall. “I don’t think so,” Harry reports. “I think it’s just been knocked out,” He pulls his wand out of its nose, and I walk over to it. “Weasley! Toss me a pipe,” A pipe clatters to the ground a second later and I start whaling on the troll’s head. I don’t want it to wake up. I don’t want it to risk hurting anyone. I don’t know why I’m so angry, but I stop when I hear a gross crunch. The trolls’s skull is dented and bleeding, the red liquid pooling at my feet, and the others have inched away from me. I drop the pipe down, looking back at Ron and Potter. “I… I think it’s dead now,” I pant.  
I look over at the door as a thunder of footsteps rushes towards us. “Oh my goodness,” I hear Snape murmur. I can tell he’s staring at the troll’s head, and the blood around my shoes. I don’t make eye contact. “What on earth were you thinking of?” Professor McGonagall, demands, ice-cold rage feuling her words. Potter looks over to Ron, who forgot to hide his wand. “Four pupils here-You’re lucky you weren’t killed! Why aren’t you in your dormitories?” “Please, Professor McGonagall. They were looking for me,” I look over to Hermione. She’s pulled herself up and is staring at her shoes as she speaks. “Miss Granger!” Professor McGonagall breathes, sounding more than a little appalled. “I went looking for the troll because I- I thought I could deal with it on my own… you know, because I’ve read all about them,” The girl lies. “Well, in that case…” said Professor McGonagall, staring at us, “Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own? Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses,” Hermione nods sadly and leaves the bathroom. Professor McGonagall continues scolding the two other Gryffindors, Ron and Potter earning the lost points and then some. After they leave, Professor McGonagall finally notices the state of the troll on the floor. “Oh, my goodness!” She breathes. I turn to her and she looks at me, the fire in her voice reaching her eyes. “Is that from the club, Mx. Hornbeam?” She asks me. Without thinking I shake my head. “Where is it from then?” I point to the pipe on the floor, and the teacher puts a hand to her forehead. “I-I can’t handle this right now. Severus, please take care of this one,” Professor McGonogall leaves.  
Snape turns on me and a cruel smile comes over his face. He steps towards me and I take a step back. “Never, in all my years at this school, have I ever seen someone stupid enough to fight an opponent so much bigger than them,” “Professor-” “Let alone-!” Snape continues through my interruption, “a first year being that foolish. But-!” The greasy-haired teacher turns around, prodding the troll’s wound with his show. “You somehow did manage to properly subdue- well, kill- a fully grown mountain troll,” There’s something in his voice that I didn’t expect to be there. Something like sick pride. “I can’t condone this behavior, so fifteen point will be taken from Slytherin. Five for deliberate disobedience of orders, and an additional ten for the killing of a sentient being,” This makes me mad. “Hey! If that thing woke up, we all could’ve-” “Died, yes,” Snape cuts me off again. “And for that, you will be earning ten points for your house. Now get downstairs. Quirrell and I must take care of the mess you made,”  
I nod, running out of the room and down the stairs. As I run I start gagging, the adrenaline leaving my body and everything hitting me full force. The blisters on my hands, the stench of the troll lingering on my clothes, the knowledge that I just beat something to death. I try to shake it off, muttering “Serpent Venom” to the wall. I stumble in, falling on the floor. “Oh, thank god you’re here!” I hear a plate smash on the floor and two pairs of footsteps run towards me. I look at the knees in front of me and try to figure out who it is. Two hands grab the sides of my face and I see Kadence, a concerned, motherly look on her face. Her fingers prod my cheekbones, running over the scars on my face. “Are you alright? How many fingers am I holding up?” “Four?” I ask. Kadence nods, turning to the boy next to her. “Jackson, go get this child some dessert,” Jackson’s knees return very quickly, pushing a plate of pumpkin pie, chocolate frogs, lollipops, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and cauldron cakes towards me. “Dude!” Jackson asks, revulsion in his voice. “Why do you smell so rank?!” “Because mountain trolls smell- Yup! Yup! Yup!- like a cesspool!” I shout. The room quiets down and I stand up, walking over to my room. I get out of my clothes and into my pajamas, casting the cleaning spell on myself.   
I leave the room and grab my plate off the floor, sitting down in Radelle’s usual arm chair and shoving some pie into my mouth. “Hey, Fern,” Radelle starts, sitting in my usual spot. “Why are your shoes all bloody,” “Oh I don’t know,” I start. “Maybe it’s because things bleed when you beat their skulls with pipes,” The people who heard me stop chewing, and they’re all kind of staring at me. “Did you beat something with a pipe?” Draco asks me slowly. I nod. “Yeah. The troll. It’s dead now,” I say plainly. Radelle laughs slightly. “Did you get any points for it?” Draco asks, clearly only concerned about our House’s reputation. “I lost us fifteen, and gain us ten. So we lost five,” I report. “Dammit,” Draco gripes. “Was anyone else there?” Pansy asks. “Yah,” I tell her, my mouth full of pie. “Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. Drake Hermione lost Gryffindor five… and Ron and Potter both earned them five. So Gryffindor about five points out of this,” “What?!” Radelle and Draco yell. “You actually killed it!” Radelle protests. “How did they gain five and we lost five?!" “I don’t know!” I yell back. Radelle looks shocked. Like I had the audacity to speak back to someone like her. Draco laughs, and he raises his eyebrows at me. I stick my tongue out at him and he laughs. I decide to laugh as well. Despite the stress that I’ve been through, it feels nice to laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, no one tries to rip on me. It actually feels kind of nice. I assume it’s because of the Troll Incident. I look at myself in the mirror and grin instead of shying away from it. “My- whoo!- hair doesn’t need to be brushed today,” I decide. “Fine as it is, really,” I laugh at the spikes it forms around my neck and forehead. I stroll into the common room and a wake of thankfulness washes over me. I’m not dead. I could’ve died last night and I’m not dead. I sit on the couch, drinking some breakfast tea as I wait for my friends. I hear footsteps and look over to their source. Radelle is walking out of the boy’s dorm. I launch myself at Radelle and hug her, not caring if I mess her hair up or knock her over. “What’s up with you?!” Radelle demands. “I have no clue!” I tell her. “Just happy,” We walk over to the couch and I pour Radelle her cup of tea. The cup snaps at me but I yell at it. “No!” I scold. “Bad!” The snakes coil back to their handle, and Radelle happily sips her tea.  
I see Draco heading upstairs out of the boy's dormitory. I grin at him, and I see the colour drain from his face. “Don’t you freaking dare,” He warns. I shake my head and jump at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my cheek into his. I briefly have a flashback to when we were six and we’d do this to each other all the time. They’re some of my favorite memories, and this hug is letting me relive them. “Get off!” Draco yells at me. I pull back and laugh, my cheek raw. Draco laughs at me and pats my head. “God, you’re so stupid I don’t know how you’re alive. Anyways, I want tea,” Radelle hands Draco his cup, and we chat about the Quidditch game that’s coming up in about two weeks or so. “You know, my cousin’s Marcus Flint,” Radelle tells us. “He’s the reason Slytherin is so hard to beat,” Draco just sips his tea loudly, not wanting to acknowledge that Radelle has a solid flex. I try to think of where I’ve heard Marcus’ name in terms of Quidditch before, I just don’t know where. “Oh!” I yell, realizing where I heard it. “Well, he might get beat in the next game,” Radelle turns her eyes towards me, appalled that I doubted our team. “Why on Earth would you think that?” She demands. “I mean, Gryffindor got a new seeker,” I explain. “It’s Potter. No one knows what he’s capable of. But,” I continue, stirring an extra sugar cube into my tea. “I’ll be sure to be on the pitch carrying a mattress,” “Don’t bother!” Draco laughs. “We’ll be better off if that ‘Boy Who Lived’ goes splat on the grass,” I want to laugh, but part of me doesn’t want him to get hurt. I mean, we survived being attacked by a troll together. That’s not just something I can let go of or forget about.  
“I think it’s breakfast time,” I say half an hour later. Radelle glances at the silver watch on her wrist and nods to confirm. I stand up and stretch, wincing at a pain under my shoulder blades. “You good, mate?” Radelle asks me as we walk. “Yeah,” I say, the friendliness weirding me out. “My back just hurts. Must’ve pulled something,” “Oh. When you beat that troll?” Blaise asks. I nod, reaching up to rub my shoulder. “Yea-whoa!” I tell him. “I’ll just wait it out,” We walk into the dining hall and the Slytherins that are in there look at me. I don’t like it. “Quit staring!” I snap at them. I sit down in my seat, and my friends sit in our usual order. I don’t grab any food. I’m still stuffed from last night. Everyone eats until the mail comes. An owl that I don’t recognize, a barn owl, drops a red letter on my empty plate. It’s smoking at the edges slightly and I don’t know why. “Uh, does anyone know what- rubbish!- this is?” I ask no one in particular. “Oh, shit!” Jackson yells, jumping up from the table. “What is it?” I panic. “That’s a Howler!” he explains. “Open it! And cover your ears!” I listen to him, and the second the letter opens it twists into a mouth and starts yelling.   
"Hey, Stripes! How have you been doing?” The thing yells. I recognize the voice. It’s Draco. I touch the scars on my face, trying to hide them with my fingers as the Howler continues. “Getting injuries as always? Great! Didn't really expect anything different from you!” The letter laughs cruelly and jumps back into yelling at me. “Hope you washed the stink from last night off! Not that anyone goes close enough to you to care!” Another voice jumps in, and I recognize this one as Radelle’s. “But I can guarantee you that no one will notice! I mean, you already look like you crawled out of a trash bin. Probably because of your melty-looking, muddy quicksand hair! See ya in the Common room later! Or maybe we'll book you a visit to the Grindylows!” The letter tears itself up and I hear people laughing at me. I don’t look up to see who’s laughing, all I know is that Draco and Radelle are. Emptiness and embarrassment swirl around inside my body and make my eyes burn. I don’t bother wiping the tears out of them. I don’t trust myself to move my hands without hurting the two people who sent me the letter. I hear another owl and a second letter drop onto my plate. The owl hops onto my shoulder, and I look over at it. It’s Cobalt. So this letter is probably from Narcissa. I look at the letter and my heart sinks. It’s a second Howler.  
I wait for the letter to open itself. I don’t want to touch it. The letter explodes, and I hear a frantic, excited voice start yelling at me. “Oh my- We are so proud of you!” I look up at the Howler, really confused. “What the hell?” I hear Radelle mutter as the letter continues. “I mean, you- You really- I can’t. I can’t articulate. George! Take care of this!” I start grinning as the tears leave my eyes, listening to the happiness in the voices of my friends. “Like Fred said! We’re so proud of you!” George’s voice yells at me. “I mean, you-you're so tiny! You’re so small and skinny and I’m not trying to sound rude, but you are! Can’t believe you managed to bludgeon that troll!” “Oh, this is gross,” I hear Draco mutter to Radelle. “You just- I don’t know how to say how proud we are of you! You’re incredible!” “Yeah!” Fred’s voice chimes back in. “We have to go now!” They both yell. The letter tears itself up and I wipe the tears off my cheeks, the grin on my face refusing to dissolve. “Quit smiling!” Draco snaps at me. “That’s disgusting! Blood-traitors sending you something like that. And you being happy about it?!” Radelle nods in agreement, and Blaise makes fake gagging noises. I don’t care though. The message with repetitive, incoherent, and too sentimental for my taste, but it replaces the negative poison in my stomach with a bubble of joy in my chest.  
I leave the dining hall at nine a.m, walking towards my first class. I push the door open to the Charms room. I see Neville Longbottom, one of the early students, staring at me. I know he heard the Howlers, meaning he probably knows what happened with the troll. I stomp the ground and jut my face forward at him. Neville recoils and I laugh at him. I don’t want to scare him per se, but I love the reaction. I sit at a table that’s not usual for me. It’s the one closest to the desk, right at the front of the room. I run my fingers over the tabletop and a shiver runs through me and makes my teeth hurt slightly. This wood is unfamiliar. Too smooth. Like it’s been sanded or transfigured into something else one too many times. I decide to push past it and stay in my seat, my leg jumping to try and calm myself down. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger come into the room and sit next to me, one person on either side. I forgot this was their usual desk and my face starts burning. Professor Flitwick hops up onto his usual stand and smiles at us. “Alright! We’re having a review day today, as I have… seemed to have misplaced my lesson plan. Sorry students,” He laughs and taps his desk with his wand. “Please go over the levitation charm. Whoever can get the most feathers to float by the end of class wins five points for their house,” Immediately everyone starts working as fast as possible. Well, except for my table. I don’t want to move, Hermione is working on quality over quantity, and Ron is staring at me.  
“What?” I ask him, hoping I don’t sound too poisonous. Ron gulps like I’m a firecracker that’s about to go off. “I don’t bite- Yup! Yup! Yup!- you know,” I mutter. “No,” Ron confirms, muttering the charm to get one of his feathers off the desk. “But you do beat mountain trolls to death,” “Hey, man!” I start, more annoyed than angry.   
“If you thought what thought, and were feeling what I was feeling, you would’ve done it too,”   
“And what feeling is that?”  
“Well, I don’t really know,” I admit. “I guess… I guess I was worried- woo!- that it was going to wake up and hurt…” I don’t know what to say, I just motion to Ron, Hermione, and Potter at the other end of the room. Ron blinks at me. “Uh, I hate to tell you this mate, but that’s a pretty normal feeling,” My eyebrows knit together in confusion. I turn away from the ginger and make three feathers float before I speak again. “It is?” I ask him. Ron nods. I sigh in disappointment. Ron laughs at me. “You’re only used to a sense of… self-preservation then, huh?” He asks me. I nod. He shrugs. “Shame,”   
I don’t ask him what he means. I just prepare to float feathers for the rest of the class. I get into a groove, not even thinking about what I’m saying or the motions of my wand. “Wingardium Levi-ouch!” My charm is cut off by something hitting me in the side of the head. I look to the right and see a floating ball of crumpled parchment. I pluck it out of the air and open it. Traitor. The message prickles up and down my arms and neck. I look over to see who threw the note. Crabbe and Goyle are sitting on their own behind Draco and Radelle. The goons are laughing but turn back to fumbling with their wands when they catch me staring. I scoff and finish floating my feather. “You should send them a note back,” Ron says casually. I eye him suspiciously. “What would the- froggo- point of that be?” I ask him. “Oh, silly me,” Ron jokes. “Shouldn’t have assumed they could read,” I laugh at that. I didn’t expect to, but it’s a funny joke. I shove the note into my pocket, the word more annoying than painful. When I look up at the clock next, there’s not a lot of time left in the class. A competitive urge surges through my blood and I look over at Ron. “Whoever can float the most feathers by the end of class wins,” I challenge. Ron raises an eyebrow. “What happens when I win?” He asks me. “When I win,” I start slowly, “you have to… you have to give me your desserts for a week,” Ron’s mouth drops open. “Fine,” I say with a chuckle, rolling my eyes. “Just for tonight,” Ron puts out his hand, nodding at the revision. “Deal!” After I shake his hand, we pluck the feathers we already sent up out of the air. I start saying the charm over and over again, faster and faster. White plumes are floating up into the air, tickling as they glide past my cheeks and fingertips. About ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick’s high voice chirps into the classroom. “The time for review is over!” He announces. “Let’s see who has the most feathers up, shall we?” He counts each person’s, muttering the numbers to himself. “Ah! It seems that Mx. Hornbeam has the most feathers up in the air, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Miss Hernandez. Mx. Hornbeam, you have won five points for Slytherin! Off to your next class, all of you!” We stand up and I walk over to Radelle and Draco. They don’t acknowledge me, and it kind of stings. I decide to brush it off and I sit with them in all of my next classes.   
At lunch, I’m getting tired and I don’t know why. “Dude. You look like shit,” Radelle says bluntly. I yawn in response. “Sorry Radelle,” I say. She eyes me weirdly. “For what?” She asks. “Sorry that I can’t look as perfect as you!” I tell her with a chuckle. “And have beautiful, luxurious hair!” Blaise snorts. I laugh with him. I sit down in an unusual spot. I’m next to Kadence and Jackon, and across from Blaise and Marcus. Jackson waves when I sit down. “Nice to see you here, firstie,” He greets me. Kadence nods. Marcus squints at me, angrily biting into the sandwich in his hand. I eye him weirdly as I reach for a goblet of pumpkin juice. “Wish they had coffee,” Jackson comments. I nod in agreement. A few minutes later, Marcus is still eyeing me. “What do you want from me?” I demand. He shrugs. “Just sizing you up,” He states. “No, I get that,” I spit. “Why though?”   
“Because you’re a weird person,”  
“Please elaborate, Flint,”  
“You were sorted into Slytherin. You have the traits of a Slytherin. You practically live with only Slytherins out of Hogwarts. But you seem to love Gryffindors. It’s weird,”  
“What do you mean, I ‘love Gryffindors’?” I ask, nerves clenching at my stomach. He shrugs. “Well, I haven’t seen or heard much myself. But my cousin says a lot about your habits,” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Who’s your cousin?” I ask. “Radelle. You know her,” Marcus returns. I sigh. “As much as I love Radelle,” I tell him slowly. “She lies. Or at least exaggerates. Kind of a lot,” Marcus’s eyes harden and he drops his food to his plate. “What are you on about, Hornbeam?” He demands. I shrug. “I mean, she’s lied to me a lot. Not big things, but little ones. Saying she’s going to meet up, opinions on people around us, her grades,” Marcus points at my face. “You try to say any of my family members are liars again, and I’m going to-” “Cut it out, Marcus,” Jackson cuts in. “What’re you gonna do, Park?” Marcus snaps at him. “Wave your wand at me? Tell Gemma? I can guarantee that you couldn’t take me in a fight,” Jackson’s face goes bright red. “You know what, Flint?” He returns, stroking his inky black hair off his forehead. “I think you’re more than a bit of a jackass,” Blaise laughs, leaning back as he watches what’s going on. Marcus stands up. “What was that, Park?” Jackson shakes his head with a sigh. “Nothing. It was nothing,” When Marcus sits down, Kadence stands up. “Where’re you headed, Kadence?” Jackson asks. Kadence frowns at her friend. “You guys are unbearable. I’m leaving,” The girl leaves the great hall, walking to who knows where. I wave goodbye to her. I feel like the people have forgotten that I’m here because no one’s talking. No one’s throwing me dirty looks. I like it. I smile at being left alone, humming to a song that only I can hear. Blaise kicks me under the table. I look up at him. “What- fuck off- do you want?” I ask him. “You have an odd ability,” He ventures. “To surround yourself with arguments,” I squint. “I mean, you constantly hang out with Radelle and Draco, who rip on you and pick fights. You hang out with me and Pansy. We all talk shit about people anyways. And then you sit near Marcus, who was a dick on our first night here,” “I was not a dick, Zabini!” Marcus protests. “You made fun of me for eating turkey,” I tell him. Jackson nods in agreement. The Quidditch captain shrugs. “Hey. Don’t blame me for being confused about them,” He scoffs.  
I sigh, letting my mind drift away from the dining hall. I start basking in feelings I remember. The warm feeling of wherever Narcissa would kiss my forehead as a little kid. Pain from scraping my knees against the concrete. The bright, bold, colourful emotions of waking up in the morning. My mind travels back to that night in the astronomy tower. The cosmic ocean up above me, the poisonous thunderstorm I’d escaped from, and the two other beings in the sand with me. It felt safe. It was safe. I was safe. Thinking about it makes a warm, fuzzy feeling washes over my chest and face. There’s a big smile on my face, but I don’t care. Blaise kicks me again. “What?!” I snap. “You were zoning out,” Blaise tells me. “And we’re all leaving now,” I nod and get up with him, leaving the dining hall.   
“What I said earlier was true, just so you know,” Blaise tells me as we walk into potions. I sit down in my seat with him. “What was- woohoo!- true?” I ask, having forgotten what we talked about. “That you surround yourself with arguments,” Blaise says, taking his books out. “I guarantee you that you’re going to get into a fight by the end of the day,” “Sure, buddy,” I scoff, turning away. The thought drips down my spine, dissolving the warm memories and replacing it with poisonous anticipation. I start tapping my legs against the floor, and my arms start jerking. First my hands, the fingers splaying out, clenching and unclenching without me wanting them to. My wrists shake and my elbows start jerking out. I try and suppress the movements, not wanting to smack my friend. “Just- fuck off! Woohoo!- stop!” I hiss to myself. “What’s up with you?” Blaise whispers. “T- rubbish- Tic attack- fuck you!- I think-” My left arm sweeps itself across the table, knocking over my books, cauldron, and the bowls of ingredients on my desk to the ground. “Oh, mother of- froggo! Oh, fuck me…” I mutter. I go pick all the things up, but my fingers won’t hold on to anything and my head keeps trying to slam into the ground. Blaise stands up and starts to pick the larger items up for me, placing them on the desk silently. I’m still frantically trying to force my fingers to pick up leaves when I hear someone walk over. “Get up,” Snape’s voice snaps at me. “I’d- woohoo!- love to but I- wheee!- probably won’t- woah!- be able- Yup! Yup! Yup!- to,” The man scoffs and grabs the back of my robes, yanking me up. “Let go of m- fuck off!” I’m dropped into my seat. “What did you just say to me, Hornbeam?” He asks dangerously. My hands jump out and fling my books off the desk again. “Oh goddammit…” I hear Blaise mutter, starting to stand up again. “Do not help,” He snaps at the boy. I bite my lip as my arms keep shaking, trying to not say anything. “They can’t grab anything,” Blaise says bluntly. Snape bends down on our desk, staring at me and Blaise. He opens his mouth to speak, but my arm shoots out and strikes his face.  
“Oh!” Blaise yells, along with most of the people in the class. The smack sounded like a firecracker, a sharp, loud, short sound. My hand stays in the air, my legs and other arm still twitching. Snape inhales and pulls back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Out of my classroom,” He orders me. “Professor-” “Now!” He snaps. I hurry out of the room, sitting on the ground and shaking. Snape comes out fifteen minutes later, and my tics have calmed down. “Stand up,” He orders. I quickly get to my feet, locking my knees in place. “What on Earth let you think you had the right to do that?” The teacher demands from me. “It was an accident,” I say dully. “Of course it was,” He spits. “Just after you do something idiotic, spew profanities at me and let your housemate come to your aid, you smack me,” “You- Yup! Yup! Yup!- know I have tics, Professor,” I say, my eyebrows knitting together. “I sent a letter before I even came to the school,” He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Are you trying to make a fool out of me, child?” He demands. “If you get away with anything, anything at all, any and all order in my classroom just might slip to where your sanity has gone,” Anger boils up inside of me and I take a step towards him. “It was a tic! Y’know? Something I can’t control?!” Snape goes to yell back at me, but I cut him off this time. “You can take points off the house, I don’t care. But you’re not getting me in actual trouble for an accident. Now, I would like to go make potions,” I start walking away, opening the door to the room. “Fine!” Snape snaps. “And that’s-” “Twenty points from Slytherin!” I yell as I storm back in.   
My books are back on the table and what could be picked up from the discarded ingredients is back up on the desk. Blaise has moved them closer to himself though. He scoots away from me as I sit down, eyeing me up and down poisonously. “Are you good? Not a spazzy freak anymore?” I nod, clicking as my head whips to the side. “Yeah,” I say, chuckling at the irony. “Not a spazzy freak anymore,” As Blaise pushes my books back towards me, Snape walks to the front of the room. He turns to the side and I hear Radelle snicker behind me. His cheek has turned a bright pink where I struck it, a warm contrast against his pale, sallow skin. He turns to the perpetrator, pointing his wand at the person who dared to laugh. Radelle’s mouth zips shut, and I can hear her muffled panic as she tries to pry her lips apart. Blaise and I chuckle together, high-fiving out of the professor’s view. Snape turns back to the board and writes out De-Stressing Potion. He turns back around and speaks loudly to the class. “As you can see here, we’re making a de-stressing potion today. Can anyone tell me the origin of and reason behind the invention of this particular concoction,” My hand shoots up, as does Hermione Granger’s. Snape sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Since only one person knows, Hornbeam. Answer the question,” I sigh, clasping my hands in front of me. “The De-Stressing Potion,” I begin, “or Sucus Commodus, was a prototype for the Draught of Living Death. It was deemed not strong enough and scrapped. Later, the recipe was re-found and re-made. It is commonly used as a medication for people who suffer from PTSD, anxiety disorders or insomnia,” Snape nods and sighs. “At least someone pays attention,” The teacher sighs. “Now,” He continues. “Please follow the instructions on your desk. Whoever can make the best potion will earn points for their house,” The class nods, and I turn to the instructions on my desk.  
“Basil, mint, lavender essence, dittany, deetridge root, cessabit stem,” I rattle the ingredients off to myself, quickly skimming the rest of the recipe. “You have everything?” I ask Blaise. He nods. “Remember,” I tell him. “Five ounces of everything except the deetridge root and the lavender essence. Only a gram of deetridge root, and three droppers of lavender essence,” I remind him. “I get it,” Blaise says, rolling his eyes. I sigh and work on my potion, humming and clicking while I stir clockwise and counterclockwise with my wand. I add in the lavender essence and the potion turns a periwinkle and lets off a hissing noise whenever it spins. The smell coming off of it has turned from a pleasant, light sweetness to a heavy, choking perfume. It fills my nose and I cough, trying to hack it out of me. Blaise laughs. “Can’t handle a scent, Hornbeam?” He teases. “It makes my teeth hurt!” I joke back. “I’m in pain!” Blaise laughs at me. “It can’t smell that awful-” His smile freezes as the scent from his own potion hits him. “Oh, great Merlin!” He gags. It’s my turn to laugh at him. I pull my sweater up over my nose to block the scent and keep going. I cut the cessabit stem into six sections, tying them into a button not. I toss the knots into the potion, stirring them around so they’re on opposite sides of the cauldron. “Something in here isn’t right,” I mutter. Blaise looks over at me. “What’re you talking about?” He asks me, coming back over. I point at my mixture. “There’s two steps left,” I tell him. “What do you mean?” Blaise returns. “There’s one. One of them is blacked out,” I nod. “Yeah. That’s my point. I think Snape blacked it out so we would fail,” I mutter. Blaise scoffs at the notion, but I don't really care. I stand up and head to the student’s supply closet.   
“Honestly,” I mutter to myself. “How do you- fuck off!- expect us to make potions ourselves if you- wheee!- cut out our instructions. Not everyone- Yup! Yup! Yup!- benefits only from studying, you know…” My fingers skim across labels as I try to remember what the other ingredient is. “Ringrot, rat spleen, rosebuds, Russian Ridgehorn scales-rose buds!” I grab one of the jars of barely budding blooms and rush back to the table. I place the glass container next to the bubbling cauldron. I go to pour seven of the rosebuds in then remember that I need to take the potion off the heat. I grab the cauldron around the lip, burning my hands in the progress. Cursing the red patches on my palms and my lapse in judgment, I uncork the container and place seven next to Blaise. “What do I do with these?” He asks. “They’re the missing step,” I tell him plainly. “They’re really not, Fern,” Blaise assures me. “Sure, we have steps blacked out a lot, but they’re blacked out for a reason,” I scoff at Blaise’s nonchalance. “Fine,” I say haughtily. “When my potion is better, we’ll see who was right,” I grab the seven that I gave to my friend and toss them into my mixture one by one. The smell of strong perfume turns into a thin, light haze while the periwinkle turns to a lilac. I put a glass cover on the lid of the cauldron, letting it stew until the condensation fades off of it. I remove the lid and white steam comes out of the pot. I sigh as I inhale it, something inside my body relaxing.   
“I hope you’re all finished,” Snape drawls from the front of the room. “Because time is up,” He walks over to Neville Longbottom, who’s just now taking his cauldron off the heat. “Idiot boy. Did you not read about taking it off the heat before adding the final ingredient?” He snarls. Neville opens his mouth but then shuts it. The teacher moves on throughout the classroom, checking on everyone’s potions. Everything is deemed mediocre at best. Snape’s criticisms range from the smell being too strong to the lack of ingredients to the elixir not being strong enough. Eventually, he gets to the table Blaise and I are sitting at. So far, the best potions were made by Hermione Granger and Radelle. My leg taps against the floor and I grip my hands so hard the knuckles turn white. “Mr Zabini,” Snape starts. “Did you even think to add the final ingredient?” Blaise’s eyebrows knit together. Snape’s voice is softer than normal. Radelle’s potion must’ve been better than I thought. “I did,” Blaise says, confident in his mistake. The teacher sighs at his answer. “The blacked-out ingredient, boy,” Snape says, rubbing his temple. Blaise shakes his head. “No, sir,” He answers. The teacher sighs and places the glass cover on the potion. “You know what you do with blacked-out instructions. Keep that lid on. The smell is… unpleasant, to say the least,” I purse my lips together, trying not to laugh. Snape comes over to my potion. He inspects the liquid itself, looks at the cauldron’s location, and the number of materials I’ve used. I smirk to myself. Snape is clearly trying to look for a large flaw, but I followed instructions the best I could, so he can’t find one. I sit back and he sighs. “Since it seems acceptable, I’ll risk trying it. If you send me to the hospital wing, that’s immediate expulsion,” I shake my head. So dramatic. I think as he dips a glass into the potion and lifts it to his lips. Cut me some slack, you ass hat. Snape nods when he finishes the glass. His shoulders deflate a bit and his eyes relax. “Hm. Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. And the effects are working… better than expected,” He turns around to the blackboard and erases the word off of it. “Your homework is to write a reflection on what you did wrong and what can be improved in your version of Sucus Commodus,” He tells us. “I expect one and a half scrolls minimum. Now, out of my class,”  
We nod and pack up our stuff. I shove my potions notebook and textbook into my satchel and throw the leather bag over my shoulder. Blaise follows me out, quickly moving up to my right-hand side. “You should make that potion again and slip it in his drink,” Blaise tells me. “Or really?” I laugh. He nods at me. “Really! If Professor Snape’s homework is like that because of a shot of that drink, imagine what a full glass could do,” I snort at Blaise’s idea. “It’d probably kill him,” I warn. Blaise shrugs at me. “Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” He muses. “No,” I say, shaking my head in agreement. “We wouldn’t want that at all,” We laugh together, heading to our next class.  
***  
“I say we get our pajamas on first and go backward,” I announce as we head into the common room after dinner that night. “It’s been a backward kind of day,” And it has been. First the double howlers at breakfast, then me winning our house points, Snape getting slapped. Then there was Draco being more quiet than usual, and what I’d call a defeat in broomstick lessons. Not to mention countless other small mishaps. Blaise groans in agreement. I let out a dead chuckle before heading into my small room. I place my satchel on the bed and walk over to my trunk. It’s open and a mess, casual clothes, spare robes, and things that need to be washed just flung about. But I dig around for something that could be used, debating taking my hair out. I decide on a pair of shorts and a plain white t-shirt. I go to leave my room, but before I do, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Something about the candlelight tonight… Something about it makes my scars more prominent.  
I frown and sit in the wooden chair in front of my mirror. I reach up and skim my fingertips across the pinkish gashes. Each one has a different story tied to it. Some funny, most of them memories I don’t like to re-live. They’re a constant reminder of my shortcomings, my bad decisions, things that I could’ve done differently or better. I swallow back the choking regret and stare at myself. My fingers reach the one that most people notice first. The one directly across my nose. This one isn’t as deep as some of the others. But it’s smack dab in the center of my face. What else are people going to look at first? The memories of this scar come flooding back to me, washing over my vision like a black mist. I think back to that night, racking my brain for memories and shivering when I find them.  
I was about seven at the time. At my house. Not my home, but my house. I was playing in my bedroom, sorting through a glass jar of bones. I liked bones. Draco’s backyard had owls in there all the time. They’d spit out their owl pellets and I’d go find them. They always had bones in them. Tiny things, really. A frog’s leg here, a mouse’s skull there. I’d tell Dobby to wash them off in the kitchen sink and take them back home with me. I put them in glass jars I’d take from the kitchen. My mom didn’t care. I don’t think she even noticed. I was proud of my bones that day. I’d recently cleaned them and they looked really nice if you put them in their jar the perfect way. I wanted to show my mom. Maybe they’ll get her out of bed. I’d thought happily. I mean, they’re so cool! And they make me want to go outside. The plan had made sense. So I ran towards my mom’s room, making sure I didn’t drop my jar. I’d pushed the door to her room open, and stepped in. Closing the door being me slowly, I walked quietly towards the door. My mother had always been beautiful. I’d seen it in pictures. Honey-blonde hair and eyes like milk chocolate. She’d looked good next to my father, with his bright green eyes and inky dark hair. At least in pictures. But you couldn’t tell she had been beautiful when I saw her. Hollow cheeks, dark eyebags from no sleep, her hair a matted mess, the brightness in her eyes had faded to a dead dullness. But I’d thought she looked so ethereal. So magical back then. I’d smiled as I had approached her, excited to see her, to show her something I loved so much. “Hey, mummy,” I’d whispered, trying to stay quiet. For once, she responded. Rolled on to her side and opened those dusty brown eyes of hers. She had raised an eyebrow in response and I smiled. “Well, I got these bones and I thought that they were really-” My mother didn’t like the bones. She’d sat up, her eyes wild and angry. She slapped the jar in my hands, and me being a small child, I couldn’t hold on. I dropped my jar and it shattered all over the floor. My heart shattered with the glass and I started crying immediately. Stupidly I had kneeled down into the pile of glass and bones and started to pick them up, despite my mother yelling at me not to. Eventually, she grabbed the back of my head. “If you like to be in this dangerous filth so much, why don’t you immerse yourself?” She’d snarled. I was going to ask her what “immerse” meant, but she’d pushed my head into the pile. I don’t think she was aiming for such a large piece of glass, as the bones were right in front of me. But she’s hit my face against the glass. I shrieked and her fingers sprang apart. I had sat up as I felt blood rolling down my face, crying at the sharp pain. Her bony, sickly fingers ripped the piece out sideways and it cut into my skin. I cried louder and she dragged me to the bathroom, complaining about my blood staining the wood. She ran the water and shoved a rag under it, roughly blotting the blood off my face. “Honestly,” She’d snarled at me, using my old name. “You waste my time like that. I’ve told you time and time again I hate filth. And what do you do? You bring bones into my room!” She kept scolding me until the bleeding had stopped. She had taken out her wand and tried to mend my skin, but she was lazy and it only moved the sides together. She had left the room and I was left to put disinfectant and plasters on it myself. The next day I had gone to school with a gnarly bandage on my face and had gotten fixed up in the nurse’s office. They sent my mother a letter of concern, but she hadn't cared. Didn’t even roll over to open the letter. Just let it rest on her nightstand. A few days later, it had already scabbed over. My nurse called it a miracle, I knew it was magic. But now it’s what people remember about my face the most.  
I shiver, willing the memories to fade. To go back to wherever they came from. I don’t know why that memory tastes so dry in my mouth. My mother has a hard time taking care of herself and others, and I brought the thing she hated most to her bedside. Most of what she did was an accident. I don’t have the right to be so bitter about it. But I don’t want to look at my face anymore. I don’t want my other flaws to make me remember them. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to think. So I take my hair out, shaking it over my cheeks the best I can. I grab a hoodie and tighten the drawstrings around the neckline. My hair is tucked inside my hood, and it’s harder to see my face. I smile, nodding to myself. I look around my room, hunting for anything I could use to pass the time. I remember that we’re heading backward, so I grab the book I’m reading, my toothbrush, and my toothpaste. I poke my head back into the common room and Radelle laughs at me. “Covering up, Fern?” She teases me. “Showing a little modesty? You should wear some longer pants,” I roll my eyes at her snark. “Piss off- slag- Radelle,” I scoff back. The girl’s smiles emptily and shakes her head in disgust. “Honestly. You’re so crude. How do you even put up with them, Blaise?” Blaise shrugs and turns to Pansy. Pansy shrugs and turns to Jackson and Kadence, who had joined the group. The fourth years shrug. “We don’t know,” They all say together. I laugh at them and flop next to Blaise. “I think we should brush our teeth in the bathroom for once,” He tells me. I eye him suspiciously. “Why?” I ask. “Well, it’s a backward kind of day, as you said. Since we don’t do it, it’s backward to brush our teeth in there,” I sigh at his conclusion. “Fine,” I agree. “But I get to bring my book with me,” I don’t wait for him to respond. I just grab my book and follow him out of the common room.


	7. Chapter 7

“What’s that book about again?” Blaise asks me as he spits toothpaste foam into the sink. I shut the book, using my thumb to keep the page. “It’s about these two rivals,” I explain, kicking my legs back and forth slowly. I know if I swing too hard or too fast, my heels will hit the pipes under the sink I’m sitting on. Again. “They go to this school in the middle of nowhere. One of them is really studious, detail-oriented, academically inclined, y’know? The other is a notorious prankster. Only goes to this school because his rich dad makes him, total slacker, part of the wrong crowd. It’s about them overcoming their hatred for each other to fight the headmaster, who’s been possessed by a dark wizard,” “Sounds very cliche to me,” Blaise says casually. I sniff indignantly. “Maybe so. But that’s not why I read it,” I tell him. “Then why do you?” He asks. I shrug. “I want the characters to end up together. I like to trick myself into thinking it’ll happen by reading it over and over again,” Blaise’s eyebrows knit together. “But you said they were rivals,” He says, turning to leave the bathroom. I jump down from the sink, grabbing my toothbrush and taking it out with me.  
“Yeah, I did. That’s why I want them to end up together,” I explain. “Why though? It’s kind of a stupid thing to want, you know. Two people who hate each other to have a healthy relationship,” Blaise berates me. I roll my eyes at him. I clutch the book closer to my chest, almost like protecting it is protecting my own opinions. “I don’t know, dude,” I sigh. “Enemies to lovers is- woah!- kinda my thing,” Blaise eyes me strangely. I toss him the same expression. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” I snap. “Enemies to lovers, huh?” Blaise says. “So… you and Radelle?” He snickers and I smack him in the back of the head with my book. Blaise winces and rubs the back of his skull. “Ouch!” He gripes. “That hurts!” I stick my tongue out at him. “Too bad!” I tell him. “And no. Not like me and Radelle. For one, she’s not exactly my type,” Blaise snorts. “Yeah. I’m not into spoiled brats either,” I snicker. Blaise says the house’s password and walks in before me, keeping the door held open. It slams behind us and I flinch. “Oh, look out, guys,” Draco yells. “Hornbeam’s back. Make sure you’re quiet, or they’ll start panicking,” Crabbe, Goyle, and Radelle snicker at his jab. “Oh, shove- fucking crybaby!- off, Draco!” I snap back. Blaise groans and grabs my ear. “Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” I protest. He doesn't let go, just guides me over to the couch and tosses me onto it. “Can’t you two go a day without bickering? I swear, it’s like I’m your mother or something,” Blaise complains. I huff and cross my arms. Draco scoffs and turns his eyes to Radelle. She gives him a shrug in response.  
“Anyways,” Blaise says to his teacup. “Back to what I was saying in the bathroom. What’s so special about those two? You know about the relationship,” I think for a second. “I guess I think it’s good because it’s gay,” Some of the kids either slow down their movements or flinch, but Blaise doesn’t skip a beat. “You know, I think I’ve heard you say that before. When you talked about this book last week,” He takes a sip of his tea. “Why do you say that?” “Blaise, my friend,” I wind up. I want to say something that takes a jab at someone in this room. Radelle and Draco? No, they’re too arrogant and too close to have my insults affect them. So I go for the next best thing. “If I wanted to see a man and a woman argue I’d actually eat with Draco’s parents for once,” Blaise snorts. Draco’s cheeks flush a bright pink and he shoots me a death glare. “How dare you,” He says slowly. I snort. “Chill out, man. It’s just a joke. Can’t I joke about my family?” I ask him. “Yeah!” He snaps. “Your family. Not my parents,” This hurts, but it also makes me angry. “I fucking made your family,” I shoot back. The room quiets down and I smirk at him. “You know what?” Draco chuckles. “I think it’s time you bite your tongue,” He raises his wand and flicks it at me. “Langlock!” There’s a crack of pink light and my tongue jumps to the roof of my mouth. I try to move it down, but it’s stuck. I’m mentally cursing myself for forgetting about that jinx. Draco laughs at me. “You should learn to watch your mouth a bit more,” A ton of people laugh and I curl into a ball, shoving my fingers into my mouth.  
I frantically grab at it, trying to tear the muscle away from the roof of my mouth. I can’t get my fingers on it, and I start panicking even more. “Pathetic,” Draco laughs. Radelle huffs at him. “Honestly, Draco,” She says, walking over to me. “Despite it being funny, Fern’s our resident chatterbox! How else could we savor silence with them unable to talk?” She pokes her wand against my jaw. “Libera lingua,” She says the counter-jinx in a clear, strong voice, and the strain immediately dissolves from my mouth. I give her a grateful smile and she nods tightly at me. She walks back over to Draco and grabs a textbook off of the coffee table. “What book is- whee!- is that?” I ask her. Radelle scoffs, acting like telling me is a huge chore. “It’s a book about healing potions, Fern,” She explains like I’m a small child. “Healing potions?” I ask her. She nods. “Yes. You have a tic disorder, not an audio processing one,” She snaps. But I’m not listening. I remembered the book that Narcissa gifted me. I get up and walk into my room. It’s not in my pile of books. I go digging in my trunk and I find it. It’s a small, leather-bound book. Looks kind of like a journal. “Medical Magic. Authored by Dilys Derwent,” I read, opening the book as I walk back to Blaise. “Oh, ho ho!” He exclaims. “A new book,” He looks at the pages and lets out a dramatic gasp. “And a textbook, no less!” “Oh, shove it,” I tell him. “I’m allowed to educate myself once in a while. Blaise smiles and backs off. “Of course,”  
I decide to read the book for the whole night. Cover to cover, no distractions. I’m good with plants and potions, not spells or rituals. Shrivelfig flower helps with a euphoria potion. Gillyweed will make you grow gills and web your hands and feet. The juice of a Circel berry will make a cut close-up almost instantly. Dusted Naospore, when mixed with water, creates a slime that will induce vomiting upon consumption. Useful for being poisoned and pulling pranks. I take a mental note of that one. I want to tell Fred about it later. I go back to the book. Amortentia is in here for some reason. It’s a love potion. I don’t want to read too much about it. Love potion? Not my thing. I keep flipping through the book. I’m trying to memorize as much as possible, despite knowing I won’t be able to. I read until the teapot is cold. Until the water outside is pitch black. Until the tall green candles are sputtering and way too short. When those burn out, I take out my wand and light it up, reading by wandlight. There’s something so enthralling about medicinal magic. I’m not sure why I care about it so much. Sure, I get my fair share of injuries, but I don’t take care of them. Who’s going to go outside and get hurt? Draco? I snort at the thought. “Not a chance,” I chuckle to myself. I keep reading. I’m getting into spells now. Most of this just swirls around in my head. It doesn’t really make sense. Incantations, pronunciations, effects, wand motions. It’s too much to memorize for me. Too complex. But I do notice some discrepancies. Episkey, a spell used to heal minor to moderate injuries, doesn’t have correct instructions in it. The motion isn’t a counter-clockwise circle. It’s actually a motion that’s like a figure eight. Moves from the base, to the left, and when it hits the top you pull your wand down to the center. I grab a quill and half-empty bottle of ink off the table, quickly scribbling down my own instructions. I nod at my corrections and try to keep reading. But my eyelids get heavier and I start getting sleepy. So, so sleepy. “I’ll just- woah!- rest my eyes for a bit. Just for a bit…” I murmur.  
At the start of the weekend, I wake up on the couch. I feel asleep in the same way I have every night this week, reading my blasted book. My nose and my feet are ice cold, and my hands are red around the knuckles and fingertips. I sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. I start panicking, wanting to check what time it is. I think I’m late for breakfast and no one bothered to wake me up. But then I remember that it’s a Saturday and it doesn’t really matter. I have a sure-fire way to the kitchen anyway. I get up and stretch, my bones popping and cracking. I massage my neck with one hand as I walk into my door, slamming the door behind me. I sit on my bed and shuffle through what clothes I have. It’s either super casual or kind of formal. But not the type of formal I hate. It’s not dress robes, or tight, starchy shirts or ties. Loose button downs, sweater vests, loose pants, belts. Things like that. I go to wear something casual, but I remember the Quidditch game today. “Potter’s playing,” I say with a harsh chuckle. “Might as well wear something fancier. House pride and all,” I grab a black turtleneck and throw a cable-knit, dark green sweater over that. I put on a silver snake belt, something that matches my choker. I wear something simple below the belt, loose black pants, black socks, dark green shoes. I put my hair into a bun and stab my wand through it. I pass by my mirror again, but this time I just focus on my ears. They’re pierced, I got them done with a friend when I was about nine. I got the cartilage done in June of this year. I don’t normally switch my earrings out, but I think I’ll do it today. I grab a set of fake gauges shaped like silver snakes and clip them into my ears. I nod at myself and head into the common room. My friends are already there. They’re wearing their uniforms, just without the outer robes.  
“You’re wearing formal clothes, Fern?” Radelle asks, looking over the top of her magazine. They nod and shrug. “Why?” She asks again. I sit down and cross one leg over the other. “I mean, the only thing happening today is a bloody Quidditch game,” Radelle continues. “I love Quidditch, but I wouldn’t don’t put on a ballgown or anything,” I sigh and lean back, my head lolling on the back of the couch. “Well, it’s not just ‘a bloody Quidditch game,’” I mock her. “Potter’s playing today,” Draco sighs and shakes his head. “Why do you care about Potter?” He demands. “He’s just some git who didn’t die. It’s not like he’s special or anything. Are you friends with him?” The disgust in Draco’s voice makes me laugh. Someone’s touchy about someone. “No, not that. I was just thinking something,” “What are you thinking then?” Draco insists. “Don’t keep me waiting, Fern,” I sit up, not wanting to push Draco any further than I have been doing. “I was thinking that it’d be awful rude to wear ripped jeans to a funeral,” “Can’t spell funeral without fun,” Blaise says, snickering evilly. I nod in agreement. Draco sighs pleasantly. “And here I was, doubting your loyalty to the house,” I hear him whisper.  
“Can we go eat now?” Crabbe begs. Draco scoffs disgustedly. “Honestly, Crabbe,” He snaps. “Can’t you go an hour without eating something?” I snort, but I do agree with the meathead. I’m pretty hungry too. After a few minutes, Crabbe somehow convinces Draco to go upstairs. In a weird way, I’m not shocked. What with Draco eats consistently, I’m surprised he hasn’t dropped dead yet. Granted, I eat more than I should, so I’m not someone who can talk about unhealthy habits. I shove my hands in my pockets and walk with him. I cling to his body without touching him, my hand occasionally skimming my head to check for my wand. We get to the great hall, and the warm scent of sausages hits me full force. We must not be as early as I thought, but I don’t mind. The game isn’t for at least an hour. I can feel eyes looking at me from the Gryffindor table and my face burns. Stop looking at me. I wordlessly demand. Stop looking before I set your family trees on fire. I sit down and Draco pushes a basket of muffins towards me. “Take one,” He orders. “I’m sick of seeing you stuff your face every meal. It’s bad your you and sickening for me to watch,” I nod and grab and muffin, biting into it. I witnessed something last night that’s still on my mind. “Hey, Draco,” I venture, wanting to discuss what I saw. “What is it?” He asks. Something about his tone makes me think something I haven’t thought in years. That maybe I shouldn’t tell him this secret. So I come up with something else. “I think you knocked the ketchup over,” I say, pointing to the fallen bottle. He makes Goyle pick it up, effectively erasing my comment from his mind. But it stays in mine.  
I left my potions textbook in class last night. Normally I would wait for the next class to fetch it, but we have a nasty bit of weekend homework. I saw Potter walking towards the same room. I was more amicable to him, what with no one around. We didn’t speak, but we had exchanged smiles and half-hearted waves. I think that he doesn’t want to associate with me. Which I don’t mind, being that I don’t need to know him. But we both needed the same thing. To speak with the teacher behind a dark, closed door. Potter pushed the door open and we both peered in. The thing behind the door is what burned into my mind. Snape was sitting on his desk, robes pulled up above his knees. One of his legs was royally messed up. Skin torn from knee to ankle, the severity varying the whole time. In some areas there were faint cuts, others great gashes that had dark blood still dripping from it. Filch was handing him bandages, and there were bloody ones in the bin next to the two men. “Blasted thing,” Snape had complained. ““How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?” I wanted to keep listening, but something seized in Potter and he started closing the door. The wood squealed and I quickly darted around the corner of the wall. Out of sight, out of mind. “Potter!” Snape yelled at the boy. Potter steeled himself before saing, “I just wondered if I could have my book back,” “Get out!” Snape yelled. “Out!” Harry sprinted away, and I followed a minute later.  
Thinking about what had happened gets me thinking. When passing the third floor a few nights ago, I’d heard snarling, but also snuffling and whimpers. This thing also had, has, more than one head, according to Snape. I make a mental note to check it out later. Something weird is going on. I’m still mulling it over when I hear Draco. “Outsider. Outsider!” I turn over to Draco, who’s been snapping his fingers in my face. “What?” I ask plainly. “What’re you thinking about?” He asks. “You have that stupid look on your face,” “What stupid- whee!- What stupid look?” I demand. “Like when you don’t know what to do in potions class. What’re you thinking about? If you try too hard you’ll blow a fuse,” “Why should I tell you?” I return. Draco rolls his eyes. “Don’t get smart with me. You always tell me everything. Why is now an exception?” I sigh and put my head in my heads, leaning my elbows on the table. “What guards the gates of the underworld?” I ask him. “Oh, great. Fern’s talking crazy again,” Radelle sighs. I roll my eyes. “I’m being serious. Like, in Greek mythology,” Draco groans. “I don’t really care, Fern. You should just go to the library after the Quidditch match. I don’t care, so I don’t want to help,” Should’ve known. I think bitterly. “Can you two go one day without fighting?” Blaise asks. Draco and I both shake our heads. “Anyway, I wish I was in this game,” I say with a sigh. “Really?” Radelle asks. I nod. “I mean, I think I’d be a pretty decent seeker. And I’d- fuck off!- love to beat the chosen one in his first game,” I sigh and stab a sausage with my fork. “But, you know. I’m not going to. Maybe I’ll try out for next year,” I smile to myself. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll try- good morning!- next year,” Draco sighs. “You’re too confident in your Quidditch skills,” He tells me. “Says the person who bragged about his and had been holding the broom wrong his whole life,” I slide my eyes to his and grin. “Which I told you!” Draco sticks his tongue out at me, and I return the gesture. Blaise laughs at us.  
When Draco’s watch reads ten thirty, he stands up. “We should go,” He says to me while he motions to Crabbe and Goyle. “If we want good seats, we have to get there early,” I nod in agreement and stand up, walking next to Radelle out of the building. The air outside smacks me in the face. It’s not windy, but it’s cold and sharp. Like how your throat feels when you’ve been running in the winter. Like gaseous steel. The grass is still wet from the morning dew, and I watch it turn my dark green converse a shade darker. I hum happily, jumping from mud patch to mud patch. It must’ve rained the night before. “You’re going to get mud all over my pants!” Radelle complains. I turn to her. “Sorry your highness,” I tease her. She just shakes her head. It’s not disapproving, just disappointed in me. That doesn’t matter though. Being the token disappointment has its perks. The girl guides me towards the backs of the bleachers. I run up the stairs and stare into the pitch. Nobody’s on the grass, and my energy deflates. “Can we sit in the front row?” I ask. “Why would you want to?” Draco responds. “Yeah,” Radelle agrees. “They’re the lowest to the ground, so it’s going to be the hardest place to see from,” I shrug. “I want to be closer to the action,” I tell them. Draco shakes his head. “No,” He says. “You’re staying right here until the game finishes,” I frown as I sit down reluctantly, crossing my arms over my chest. “Fine,” I mumble. Over the next half hour, people file into the bleachers. The more people come in, the more I regret my decision to stay in my seat. I can’t see the field well, and I don’t know who’s down there. At eleven o’clock, I hear who I assume is Madam Hooch telling the players a start-of-game speech. A sharp whistle pierces the air, and the teams shoot up into the air.  
Lee Jordan, the Twins’ best friend, is providing the game’s color commentary. I learn this when a Gryffindor chaser takes the Quaffle. “And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor,” Lee announces. “What an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too-” “Jordan!” Professor McGonagall’s voice scolds him. “Sorry, Professor.” He apologizes, laughter in his tone. Johnson passes the ball to another chaser, a girl who’s announced as Alicia Spinnet. She goes to toss it back to Johnson, but Marcus Flint intercepts it. “Flint flying like an eagle up there,” Lee says, his voice still amplified. “He’s going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Oliver Wood! The Gryffindors take the Quaffle! That’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger.” I wince. Blugers are painful no matter where you get hit by them. “Quaffle taken by the Slytherins!” Lee continues. “That’s Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger, sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which,” I laugh, despite Draco growling. “What’re you pleased with that for?” He demands. I shrug. “I’m not,” I tell him,” “...a clear field ahead and off she goes! She’s really flying- wow- dodges a speeding Bludger, the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina- Keeper Bletchley dives- misses- Gryffindors score!” “Damn it!” I yell. The Gryffindor section of the bleachers cheer while the Slytherin section groans.  
Up above the chasers, Potter is circling the game. I keep my eyes locked near his position, seeing how long it takes him to catch the Snitch. “Slytherin in possession,” Lee Jordan was saying, “Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the- wait a moment, was that the Snitch?” I know what he’s talking about. Half a second before a flash of gold had flown past Adrian Pucey’s ear. Terrence Higgs, our seeker, and Potter both have seen the ball. They both dive for the Snitch, both almost able to wrap their fingers around it. Potter’s faster though, perks of being small, and he’s almost got it when Marcus rams into him. I inhale sharply through my teeth. A cry for a foul arises from Gryffindor, and I can’t say I disagree with them. You can’t just ram into the seeker. I’m about to say so, but one look at Draco’s poisonous smirk warns me against voicing my opinion. The Gryffindor team gets the foul anyway, so it doesn’t matter. “So,” Lee says, bite in his words. “After that obvious and disgusting-” “Jordan,” Professor McGonagall warns him. Lee sighs on the microphone. “I mean, after that open and revolting foul-” “Jordan, I’m warning you-” “All right, all right,” Lee concedes to the teacher. “Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession,” I nod in agreement. The Snitch has disappeared again, and I’m trying to find it. My gaze leads me to a Bludger, which almost hits Potter in the head.  
I hiss, and can’t help but cry out when his broom tries to buck him off. It happens again, and I yell again. “Jesus! What's happening?” I mutter. “Why does it matter?” Radelle laughs. “You’re dressed for a funeral, and if he somehow doesn’t fall off, Terrence will have caught it by the time Potter’s able to control that branch,” Draco laughs in agreement. I drag my fingernail over the top of my lip, scratching the skin as I stress out about the broomstick. That’s not normal. I tell myself. No, definitely not normal. It’s concerning. I don’t know what could be causing it, but I just want it to stop. I don’t need to see a death before my thirteenth birthday. The worst part about it is that no one seems to have noticed, save for me and my friends. Lee’s still commentating, his voice as bright and clear as ever. “Slytherin in possession. Flint with the Quaffle, passes , passes Bell. Hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose, only joking, Professor, Slytherins score,” I hear cheers next to me, but as Potter’s finicky broom rises more and more, the cheers fade out into odd whispers. His broom rolls and a gasp rolls through the crowd. “How do I get- fuck off!-out of the bleachers?” I ask, tapping that Alexandra girl on the shoulder. She turns to me, her pale brown eyes full of suspicion. “I don’t know,” She tells me. “At least, not with this many people in the stands,” I groan loudly, sitting back down.  
The Twins have flown up towards Harry, taking turns to try and drag him on to their brooms. Every time they do, it jumps up higher and rocks more wildly. I’m gripping my fingers together so hard that my knuckles are turning white. I try and pull my attention down to the Chasers. Marcus intercepts the Quaffle. He scores around four or five times, but no one on the pitch has noticed and Lee doesn’t count them, or at least doesn’t announce them. About two minutes later I smell smoke from a few seats over. I don’t look over, but a second after the smell appears, the jumpiness of Potter’s broom stops. I sigh shakily, relieved that he wasn’t going to die. “Otherwise my troll beating would’ve been all for nothing,” I joke to myself. “What?” Radelle asks. “What?” I return. She laughs. I see the Snitch when I return my eyes to the game. Potter’s diving after it and I jump forward. I knock a few people over, but I don’t care. I just have to see if he catches it or not. By the time I’m able to push my way to the front way of the bleachers, Potter’s on the ground. He pulls from all fours on to his knees and claps his hands over his mouth like he’s going to be sick. I lean forward, still trying to get a better view. Gold pops out of his mouth with a cough into his hand and I let out a laugh of disbelief. “I’ve got the Snitch!” He shouts, waving the ball above his head. Multiple Slytherins are all complaining about it being unfair. “He didn’t catch it!” I hear Marcus howl. “He nearly swallowed the damn thing!” I laugh because he’s right. But it's still valid. I mean, it’s not a foul or anything. I start looking for any hint of the exit. The front row is even more crowded than I thought it’d be, and it takes me ten whole minutes to get to the bleachers’ exit. I run out of the stadium as the Gryffindors leave the locker room. I sprint over to the formerly red-robed players, but I count six instead of seven. “Hey, Fern!” Fred laughs. “Did you come to congradul-” “Where’s Potter?” I demand. “What?” Fred asks. “Where’s Potter?” I ask again. Wood, the Keeper, walks over to me. “Listen… Fern,” He says, his voice already hard. “I don’t know what a Slytherin like you is doing asking about our Seeker, but it’s none of your business,” “Yeah,” Katie Bell agrees. “What’s it to you anyway? Are you going to poison him or something,” “Wouldn’t be surprised,” Alicia Spinnet chimes in. “Neither would I,” Wood snarls. “Guys! What is your problem?” George snaps. He sighs and turns to me, giving me a tight smile. “He went off with Ron and Hermione. They and Hagrid went towards his hut,” “Thank you!” I say, turning on my heel and sprinting away.  
I sprint to the hut and bang my fist against the door. I wait for someone to open it and rest my hands on my knees, swallow back the spit in my throat as I pant. The door opens and I look up, pushing my hair back on my head. A large man, the same man who brought us to the castle in September, opens the door. “Blimey, you look ruddy awful,” He tells me. “Who are you? What- Why are you here, if you don’ mind me askin’,” I exhale deeply, not in the mood to answer any questions. I stand up and push past him the best I can, which wasn’t easy. In doing so I trip myself and bang my head against a chair leg. “Are you alright?” Hermione Granger asks, her voice annoyed but also worried. I stand up and rub the top of my head. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I turn my eyes to Potter. “How’re you? Are you alright? Broken bones?” “Why do you care?” He asks me. It’s not angry. More weirded out. “I asked ‘em the same question,” The large man says. I sit down. “I don’t know. Just checking in that my hard work wasn’t for nothing,” “Yer ‘hard work’?” Ron laughs. “They may be referring to the Halloween Incident,” He says. I nod. The man binks. “You mean the troll that ‘ad it’s head bashed in?” “Yeah, that was me,” The man just shakes his head in disbelief. “Anyways, since yer already here, why don’t ya sit down? I’m makin’ tea,” I nod and sit in one of the free chairs, across from Potter and his friends. “So, are you- whee- alright?” I ask Potter again. He nods. “I think,” He tells me. “A bit, like, jostled, I guess, but I don’t have any injuries or anything,” I sigh in relief as the man puts mugs of tea down in front of us. I just wrap my hands around mine, I don’t bother drinking it.  
“So, do you guys know what was wrong with my broom?” Potter asks after a minute or two. “I mean, Nimbus 2000s don’t just start trying to buck their riders off, right?” I shake my head. “Not typically, no,” I tell him. “Although-” “It was Snape,” Ron cuts me off. I quiet down, but his conclusion doesn’t surprise me. “Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you,” “Rubbish. Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?” The large man asks. “Maybe because he has a grudge against Potter,” I offer. “I mean, his hatred is pretty obvious,” “Hornbeam is right, Hagrid,” Ron says. Potter nods before speaking again. “I found out something about him,” he told Hagrid. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him,” “Oh, that’s what the injury is?” I ask him. Potter turns to me. “Yeah. Three-headed dog,” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “It’s the thing on the third floor,” I laugh. “So that’s what those sounds are,” He nods before turning back to Hagrid. “We think he was trying to steal whatever it was hiding,” Hagrid drops the teapot as the gravity of Potter’s words sink in. “How do you four know about Fluffy?” “Fluffy?” I ask. “Yeah, he’s mine,” Hagrid mumbles. “Bought ‘im off a Greek chap I met in the pub las’ year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-” “Yes?” I ask eagerly. “Now, don’t ask me anymore,” Hagrid warns us, his voice rough. “That’s top secret, that is,” “But Snape’s trying to steal it!” Potter stresses. “Rubbish,” Hagrid tells us again. “Snape is a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort,” “So why did he just try and kill Harry?” Hermione demands. I nod in agreement, taking a drink of my tea. “That’s a- woah!- good point,” I say. “I’m all for house loyalty, but Merlin’s beard, he can’t feel uncomfortable stealing something if he tried to murder a student,” Hermione nods. “He was jinxing the broom, Hagrid. I know he was!” She stresses. “I know a jinx when I see one. I’ve read all about them! You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!” I nod. I don’t know what she’s talking about, but it makes sense. “I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” Hagrid tells us firmly. “I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of you- yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern you. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel-” “Aha!” Potter says. “So, there’s someone called Nicholas Flamel involved, is there?” I laugh. Hagrid looks furious.


End file.
